


Trusting Darkness

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:28:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 292,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1216054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the time after the war when the Magical world is struggling to recover.<br/>Hermione is left with the scars of Bellatrix's curse, causing her to have nightmares every week. Her best friend, Harry Potter decides to take a leap of faith and trusts Hermione's safety with the  only man who has the time and knowledge to research her condition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

1\. Shadows

Harry Potter looked over to his other best friend and grew worried. Hermione was standing staring out of the large window in her flat, an occupation she had recently taken up with increasing frequency. Harry stood up with anxiety pulsing through him as he caught sight of the reflection of Hermione's face on the dark glass. She was looking frightened.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked her as he came to stand beside her. The mane of bushy hair hid her face as Harry peered at her. Hermione slowly turned to face him, rosy cheeks paling rapidly.

"There's something out there, Harry," she said in an unusually soft voice, leaving Harry perplexed.

"What – what kind of thing?" he asked, completely baffled.

"I don't know… Just something… It's – it's scaring me," she said, murmuring the last part so quietly that Harry could only just make out the words.

"Oh, Hermione," he said with a sigh and patting her arm to comfort her. "There's nothing out there. We made sure of that when we killed Voldemort," Harry said reassuringly with a warm smile, but he could see that Hermione wasn't so convinced.

"But there is something, Harry. I don't know what, but it's after me."

"It's just bad memories," Harry told her firmly, gently guiding her by the arm away from the window and making her sit down on the comfy white sofa that was placed before the roaring fire of the cosy living room. Harry waved his wand at the window and the cream curtains drew themselves closed. He knew that having the window expose them to the outside world was one of the causes for Hermione's recent unusual behaviour. He plopped down into an armchair by the sofa and watched his friend. Hermione was staring unseeingly into the orange flames, wearing an unfamiliar expression that Harry could tell was a mixture between fear and reluctant curiosity. Trust Hermione to want to know everything about the thing she was scared of. He half expected her to announce that she was off to the library to do some research. But then, nothing happened for a few silent minutes, and he decided he was going to have to cheer her up.

"Look, Hermione, when Ron gets back, we'll – we'll do something. We'll go to Parvati's party," Harry said, a sort of desperation in his voice to try and make it sound all exciting. The grin he was wearing slid off his face when he noticed Hermione looking at him, unsmiling, with veiled terror in her deep brown eyes.

"I think I'm just going to go and rest," she said weakly while Harry gave a nod to hide his anxiousness.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good thing to do right now. You don't seem to be at your best," he said, standing up at the same time as her and walking the short distance with her to her bedroom door at one side of the living room. At the door, Hermione turned and gave him a small smile of gratitude before she dismissed him.

"Thanks, Harry."

"No problem. If you need anything, I'll just be out here," he told her, jabbing his thumb to the sofa behind him. Hermione gave him one final smile before going into her room and closing the door behind her. Harry sighed lightly before throwing himself onto the sofa and picking up a random Quidditch magazine to occupy himself while he waited for Ron to return from work at Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. The two boys were frequent visitors at the flat where Hermione had chosen to live, and often ended up staying the night, to relive the best of times they had had together.

Harry yawned as he saw the blurred players on broomsticks whoosh past his eyes on the vibrant pages of the magazine. He felt sleepy from a busy day working at the ministry, and before he knew it, he was drifting off into the land of dreams…

 

Crazed dark eyes that momentarily gleamed yellow with madness stared hungrily down at her. She wanted to scream, but the sound didn't seem to escape her open mouth. She couldn't see the face that the terrifying eyes belonged to, but she knew who it was, standing before her with that horribly gleaming eyes that radiated sadistic smiles.

Hermione felt her heart constrict and every muscle in her body seize up as a sudden stroke of pain struck her. Pain, pain, pain. The one thing she feared above all fears… Bones were breaking, flesh being torn apart, muscles ripped, hair yanked, a thousand white-hot knives piercing her boiling skin…

Then, there was nothing but her own harsh breathing and a furious snarl that belonged to someone else. Someone who hated her above all things. Someone who was causing the pain…

Hermione woke with a jolt, sitting bolt upright in her bed and staring around the dark room as if to search for the yellow eyes that haunted her dreams every night. She was vaguely aware of strands of her hair sticking to her face while she felt cold sweat form on her clammy skin. She glanced over to the window and could see nothing but the darkness of the September night.

Her heart was thumping wildly with fear, and adrenalin was running through her blood, making all her senses doubly aware of every movement, every sound.

She stared around the room, not wanting to leave her bed for fear of something she did not know. Fear was pumping through her and she felt herself to be drowning in it, unable to be saved. It was suffocating, this fear that claimed her every night since the end of the war. She didn't know what caused it, but whatever it was, it made all the hairs on her body stand on end and cold shivers to shoot down her spine.

She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm her neurotic mind and soon, had managed to get back to a state of relative calm. Opening her eyes, she saw the faint glimmer of light along the edges of her bedroom door and guessed that Harry was still awake.

Feeling safe, she turned back to look at the window and froze in complete fear.

There was a blurred face, an unknown face, deathly pale, yellow eyes gazing at her with deadly intensity.

Then the shadow was gone, and Hermione screamed. She screamed like she had never screamed before. Clutching the bed sheets in her feverish hands, she let out all the air in her lungs as two familiar figures crashed through the door and hurriedly brought about light.

"Hermione?" the worried voice of Ron said from above her while she stopped to catch her breath. "What's happened?"

Hermione just stared up at them, barely taking in the worried faces of her two best friends as she shook and quivered in pure fear.

"Someone… Something is after me," was all she could manage to rasp out while Ron grabbed her trembling hands.

"No, Hermione, you're just imagining things," he said firmly, but Hermione could see, even in her unstable state, that he was saying it more to reassure himself.

"There's something out there… I – I know it's there, waiting…" she said, unable to think straight as the intense fear overruled everything her mind was there for.

"Hermione," the distant voice of Harry said to her. "We'll get some help. We'll help you fight this thing, I promise."

Hermione vaguely noticed how far away Harry sounded, and she tried to voice her thanks, but was aware of only giving a small, mumbled reply that didn't seem very coherent. Her vision was dimming, and her brain was shutting down…

Then it was all darkness…

2\. An Agreement

Harry waited nervously outside a small café in Diagon Alley. He glanced around at the happy shoppers and felt distinctly estranged from the new world he had helped to create. Right now, all he could think about was Hermione's strange scare that seemed to be gripping all three of them through her. He had never known Hermione to be scared of anything besides facing Voldemort. The tough and ready girl who had been at his side for over eight years of his life seemed to have disappeared, and in her stead, a quiet, fearful young woman seemed to have come into being, the usual gush of fiery life having died down.

It truly perplexed Harry as neither he nor Ron could enjoy life with Hermione feeling so insecure about something that he secretly and guiltily doubted even existed. He missed the bossy know-it-all and was determined to go to any lengths to bring her back. That was why he was standing there in the bustling alley, waiting for someone he would never have thought to choose to meet again.

"Potter…"

Harry turned around swiftly to pinpoint the owner of the drawling voice, and came face to face with the pale-faced man, who was dressed in his usual formidable black robes that screamed of money. Lucius Malfoy looked the same as ever, except for the fine lines that had appeared on his haughty, refined face. Harry didn't miss the extra touch of Slytherin the man carried with him in the form of a snake-headed cane that had once upon a time, contained a wand. Now, Harry wasn't sure whether it still did, considering Voldemort had broken Lucius' wand while trying to kill Harry. Oh, the joyous memories…

"Mr Malfoy," Harry replied in greeting, having decided previous to the meeting, that he would address the older wizard in such a way that would maintain the biggest chance he had of coming away from their negotiation with success.

"You wanted to tell me something?" Lucius drawled in the familiar nonchalant manner of his as he gazed superciliously down his nose at Harry and sneered slightly. His long mane of sleek, white-blond hair was tied back and held in place at the nape of his neck with a sombre black ribbon.

"More like make an offer," Harry confessed. "But maybe we should sit down?" he suggested, gesturing to a small round table and two chairs offered by the café for its patrons. Harry found it hard to believe that he was trying his best to be polite to a man he considered to be a well-deserved Azkabanite, seeing as he had been a leading Death Eater for years. He wasn't sure whether he believed the tales of a post-war Lucius being reformed, but having briefly seen Draco since the end of the war, he could say that at least the son was on the right track.

"So, Potter… What is this deal you want to strike with me?" Lucius asked as he finally lowered himself elegantly into one of the simple steel chairs and leaned back like he hadn't a care in the world.

"It's quite simple," Harry started, sitting down also and nervously twisting his fingers under the table and out of view from the scrutinising gaze of the pureblood wizard. He really hoped that Malfoy would accept his end of the deal. A refusal was unthinkable.

"Knowing you, Potter, I'm not at all surprised," Lucius said with apparent boredom while Harry decided to let the insult go, albeit with grinding teeth and angry looks.

"Mr Malfoy, I – I think we can say that you have a slim chance of walking out of your upcoming trial as a free man," Harry said, steadily gaining confidence as he spoke.

"Yes, the sad truth, Potter. Now, I advise you to get to the point as I have no wish to waste my time as a…free man listening to you pointing out the obvious," Lucius told him, making Harry slightly nervous again. He was not made for the job of a diplomat, and to make everything worse, his lack of negotiating skills and experience showed up a lot against someone who had possibly spent all their adult life bargaining with everyone who could be exploited.

"Fine. To be frank, my friend Hermione is suffering from perhaps the after-effects of what Bellatrix did to her, and I have a feeling she is under some sort of…curse," Harry explained, his line of thought drifting slightly as he forgot the man listening with a bored expression while he, Harry, was getting lost in his own puzzled thoughts.

"And what has this to do with me?" the sharp voice of Lucius brought Harry's mind jumping back to reality.

"I've decided that we need the help of someone who has extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts," Harry said, watching Lucius for signs that he was getting the hint that Harry was trying so hard to drop. When the man made no move but raise a fine blond eyebrow at him, Harry decided he would have to continue.

"We need you to help us, Mr Malfoy."

"Surely you know by now, Potter, that I am a man who accepts deals when they are favourable to me?" Lucius sneered at Harry, making him feel like a schoolboy who was trying to meddle in the affairs of grown men.

"Yeah, well, you haven't heard the rest of the offer," Harry said as boldly as he could to get rid of the cowed feeling.

"Pray, enlighten me," was the dry response.

"If you agree to help us find out the cure for the curse and possibly fight it and protect Hermione, I'll have a word with Kingsley about your trip to Azkaban," Harry said, hoping that Malfoy would get what he was trying to say. He noticed the permanent expression of impassiveness that Malfoy wore, but he did detect the calculating flicker of the light grey eyes as the wizard began thinking.

"Be clear, Potter," Lucius said at last, his tone not imperious anymore, but curt and business-like. "What is it exactly that you want from me?"

"Your first priority would be to protect Hermione, without exceptions," Harry stated, noticing the visible blanch Malfoy gave at the thought of protecting someone who represented the very things he had dedicated his entire adult life to eradicating. He knew that the pure-blood was weighing the pros and cons of the condition, but decided to add more to the other man's rising alarm.

"Your second priority would be to help us find out what this curse is and discover the cure," Harry said as he watched Lucius inhale sharply and try to maintain his even composure.

"And who is this 'us' you speak of?" Lucius asked Harry with a sneer that was lacking of its usual conscious malice.

"Me, Ron and Hermione," Harry replied simply, waiting for the negative effects from the ex-Death Eater he fully expected, as it wasn't everyday that a follower of Voldemort was offered the 'redeeming' chance to ally themselves with the Golden Trio.

"Any other conditions?" Lucius asked warily, eyeing Harry suspiciously.

"You'll have to make some vows with me and Ron so that we can be sure you won't go running off somewhere as soon as you're declared a free man."

"I am touched at your profound trust in me, Potter," Lucius remarked with a real sneer this time. "Remind me; why is this offer so promising for me?" he asked in apparent carelessness, but Harry could tell the man was seriously considering the deal. He leaned forward slightly so he could utter the sealing sentence without attracting attention.

"You would have one less person testifying against you, Mr Malfoy, and let's think about it; if they see you being defended by Harry Potter, don't you think they might just think twice about handing you that life sentence?" Harry said quietly while watching Lucius' reactions intently. The wizard was gazing unseeingly at something across the street, his gloved fingers caressing his cane thoughtfully while a muscle went in his jaw. The grey eyes flickered over to meet Harry's and he offered Lucius a knowing smile, knowing that Malfoy was, despite his attitude, in no position to let such a precious offer pass.

"What do you think, Mr Malfoy? Freedom or Azkaban?" Harry asked quietly, eyes still fixed on the older man's face.

"I hardly think guarding a Mud – a girl with some insomniac problems makes me a free man," Lucius said thoughtfully, speaking his doubts more to himself than Harry. Harry hadn't missed the slip of Malfoy's tongue and felt anger flare at the thought of the offensive word Lucius had almost said. But he secretly knew that without Malfoy's help, they were going to have some difficulties solving Hermione's problem.

"Besides, you owe your life to my wife, Potter," Lucius told him with a slight curl of his lips. Harry silently swore as he realised that Lucius was right; he did have a life debt to Narcissa, but seeing as there wasn't much he could do for her, it was debt that might as well have been forgotten.

"That doesn't make you free of any guilt, Mr Malfoy," Harry told him firmly. "In fact, I think this is my debt paid to your wife; I'm keeping her lousy husband out of jail." Harry smiled when he saw a flash of annoyance pass over Lucius' face; it was good to know that the other man was probably swearing away as Harry turned the tables.

"Will you accept my offer?" he asked, hoping that he wouldn't have to lean on bluffs to get Malfoy to agree.

"I have no wish to protect Mudbloods," Lucius said slowly, letting the offensive words sink into Harry, watching for the young man to rise to the bait. Harry knew what the other wizard's intentions were, and resolutely made no comment, but shot him a deathly glare before suddenly assuming a casual pose. It was time to throw down his trump card.

"Well, in that case, all I'll be telling Kingsley is that you deserve to go to Azkaban," Harry said airily, desperately hoping that Malfoy wouldn't sense his bluff as he leaned back in his chair and ruffled his messy black hair with a careless stretch. He could feel the cold grey eyes looking at him piercingly as Lucius ground his teeth in silent debate with himself.

"Thanks for your time, Mr Malfoy, and I probably won't be seeing you for…well, let's just say a very long time," Harry said lightly, getting to his feet and stretching again, putting on his most unbothered attitude as he made to leave. He felt panic at his questionable tactics when Lucius made no move to stop him. Not wanting to look like he was lingering around, Harry heaved a small, deliberate sigh before glancing around the alley and stepping forwards. His worries were quelled when he heard Lucius shift behind him.

"Wait!"

The harsh syllable cut through the air and Harry, who had his back to him, smiled in relief to himself before turning to face Malfoy with a questioning look on his face. He was beginning to get the hang of this charade of sorts.

"I – I think I shall have to accept your offer, Potter," Lucius said, faltering ever so slightly as he said the words.

"Excellent!" Harry exclaimed, sitting down again opposite the wizard who looked extremely strained in the short moment it had taken to announce his decision.

"But I want to ask, before I sign anything, why didn't you go to one of your blasted Order for help?" Lucius asked with a hint of curiosity behind the lazy tone.

"I figured that none of them would know about the Dark Arts more than a Death Eater," Harry explained, a dark look flickering on his face as he realised just whom he was talking to.

"This job is suited for the likes of Snape," Lucius remarked.

"Yeah, but unfortunately – I don't know if you noticed – Professor Snape's kind of dead and it's hard to get the dead to help," Harry replied with a roll of his eyes, making sure that he used a respectable title for the man who had ultimately been the hero in the war. There was to be no more 'Snape the greasy-haired git' or 'foul monster' in the affectionate reminisces of the Golden Trio. He was firmly known as Professor Snape now.

"Why don't you get his portrait to help you?" Lucius offered with a hint of sarcasm, still trying to find a way out of being the assistant for three barely-adults he despised most. "After all, he does owe you after you made sure he got a portrait at Hogwarts."

"I would, but knowing, Professor Snape, he would probably tell me all the wrong things just to get a sadistic laugh out of it. Life-endangering situations don't seem so bad when you're dead and sitting in a portrait."

"Hmm… Yes, that sounds rather like Snapish behaviour," Lucius said with a small smile playing on his lips.

"Anyways, seeing as you seem to be the sanest of the lot, I decided that I would have to ask you first," Harry admitted, hating the fact that he was making Lucius sound like some sort of inspirational figure to be sought out in times of need. They had Dumbledore for that job; they didn't need Lucius to join the club.

"Ah… despite that flattering remark, Potter, it is my duty to the wizarding world to display a little modesty, more for your sake than mine," Lucius said with a slight smirk. "I may not prove to be so knowledgeable about the Dark Arts as you presume. What will you do then, hmm?"

"Well, I suppose I always knew that people who serve as Voldemort's right-hand man tend to be completely useless at the Dark Arts," Harry said sarcastically. "I mean, after all, Voldemort's cause was fighting the overpopulating rabbit epidemic, not trying to kill anyone or anything."

"Then you are welcome to tell the minister that I am nothing more than a rabbit-killer," Lucius said with a smirk while Harry had to stop a grin appearing. It really was quite disturbing how he was sharing a joke with an ex-Death Eater.

"Do we have an agreement then, Mr Malfoy?" Harry asked, offering his hand for a confirming shake. Lucius just stared at the outstretched hand for a moment before slowly raising his own hand. Harry tightened his grip on his wand under the table, but was glad when the gloved hand only grasped his in a firm hold and shook it.

"Despite my better judgement, I believe so, Potter," Lucius drawled, surprisingly not bothered by the fact that he was shaking hands with his enemy, Harry Potter, whom he had tried to kill on several occasions.

"Oh, and I think we should make an Unbreakable Vow so that you don't walk out half-way through," Harry said, wanting to instil a little seriousness about the job on Malfoy, who seemed to be taking it a little too well for his own good.

"Don't trust me, Potter?" Lucius asked with a slightly amused look on his face.

"Who would trust the dark?" Harry answered grimly, noting that Malfoy senior was looking slightly offended. Oh, this was going to be one fun alliance…


	2. II

3\. Acceptance

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Hermione shrieked at the sheepish-looking young man standing in the middle of the living room of the flat. Harry had to admit that he was relieved Hermione had become normal enough to yell at him, but it was still a fairly frightening experience.

"You employed him to help us?" she continued to screech at him. Harry looked over to the tall man standing by the door who was looking unaffected by their "warm" reception, while he shot Harry a questioning look. With a sigh, Harry turned back to the fuming Hermione to try and explain.

"Look, Herms, whatever's chasing you is likely to be connected to the Dark Arts and considering Mr Malfoy's been doing it since god knows when, he might actually be able to help us," Harry said in a voice that spoke of his hopefulness to calm her.

"I don't care if he's good at the Dark Arts! Hermione screamed at him with hysteria rising in her tones. "He's a Death Eater and it's more likely he's going to kill me in my sleep than protect me!"

"I am actually present, Miss Granger. Kindly address your life concerns directly to me, rather than trying to reduce Potter to ashes with all that fiery talk. I fear we may need him if we are to quicken the precious time we spend together," Lucius drawled as he sauntered forwards, stopping in the empty gap of considerable distance between Hermione and Harry. He presented her with his usual sneer, causing her face to redden in rage.

"You wait until Ron gets back," Hermione snarled at Harry while glancing uneasily at the man looming over her. "He'll see sense even if you don't!"

"Hermione, it's for your own good –" Harry began to say in defence, but was immediately cut off by a furious Hermione.

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT'S GOOD FOR ME IF YOU DON'T KNOW! LUCIUS BLOODY MALFOY IS NOT GOOD FOR ME!"

Harry said nothing to counter the outburst, but glanced nervously at Lucius who was looking like he had swallowed something extremely unpleasant and was more than happy to take out his frustration on whatever stood before him. In this case, it was Hermione, and even though she was frightful in her rage, it was nothing compared to the wrath Lucius Malfoy could wield.

"Miss Granger!" Harry heard Lucius hiss, and watched apprehensively as the man bent down slightly so that his nose was only slightly higher than Hermione's. "Believe me when I tell you, I have no wish whatsoever in babysitting a child like you, but some of us have to make some adult decisions around here!"

Hermione's indignant retort at being called a child was lost when Lucius spoke again, a fierce snarl on his lips as wild anger danced in his darkened eyes.

"Do not think I enjoy the prospect of looking after someone like you! You would do well to remember the fact that I will not hesitate to carry out actions to maintain discipline if you happen to talk to me like that again!"

Harry could see how frightened Hermione was suddenly looking, all the fight having left her as Lucius threatened her with just words. There was no need for wands with a venomous voice like Lucius'. Even he, Harry, who was standing a metre away from the two, could feel the distinct tension in the air after Lucius' dangerous warning. Hermione seemed to come to her senses as she gave a jerk of a nod and suddenly turned and without another word, ran to her bedroom, slamming the door after her. Harry saw Lucius straighten up, pale face still expressionless, but his cold eyes flaring with controlled rage. Harry wasn't sure what to do, as he feared talking to Malfoy, now that the older wizard looked like he would very much like to hex whatever was in sight. He was about to quietly leave the scene when Malfoy spoke.

"What was that about her being unduly quiet and inward, Potter?" he asked, eyes fixed on Hermione's bedroom door and still looking angry.

"Erm… Well, your – er – presence seems to have made her go back to normal."

"You mean to say that she screams like a banshee every time she makes conversation?" Lucius asked with a raised brow as he turned to face the younger man. Harry might have laughed had it not been such an edgy moment, but he knew better than to look amused when he knew that Malfoy had probably killed for less.

"Well, no, but I'm sure she'll come round. You'll be glad to know that she's just a bit insecure at the moment."

"Indeed," was Lucius' dry reply.

 

Hermione stormed around her room, shooting an arm out at random points to drag everything off the surface of her over-crowded desk and drawers, sending piles of parchment, open bottles of ink, open books and whatnot all crashing to the floor. She was angry beyond belief; she wasn't sure why, but all she knew was that she wanted Lucius Malfoy out of her house. Honestly, trust Harry to go and call in some sadistic lunatic like Malfoy to come and help…

Do not think I enjoy the prospect of looking after someone like you!

His words rang through her head, hurting her much more than she wanted them to. She knew what he was referring to; she was a Mudblood, the thing he hated most, along with Muggles. Her anger seemed to be rising from that point; she hated it how disillusioned purebloods like him could only see her for what she was. They would never bother to realise that she was as equal to them as she knew herself to be. When she had screamed her fear about Malfoy killing her, she had not been joking. She was quite plainly scared of the man. Who wouldn't be? Especially if it was certain fact that the man was known for his boundless hate for Muggleborns…

She paced the small stretch of uncarpeted floor, her bare feet thumping across the wooden floorboards as she tried to walk off the fury. She contemplated how the mere sight of the man had made the flashing visions of yellow eyes and crippling fear jolt through her body. Her darkest memories were being thrown up as she tried her best to ignore them. Then she remembered her nightly dreams that had her waking up with cold sweat soaking up the sheets. Every night, the eyes and snarl would come for her, and she could only open her mouth in a silent scream…

"Hermione?" the tentative voice of Harry said from the other side of the closed bedroom door. "Can I come in?"

Hermione exhaled deeply before she turned around slowly to face the door. Her sudden temper had calmed down into a simmering rage and she thought she was ready to face the world once again, minus the shouting.

"Yes," she said quietly to the door. She watched with folded arms as Harry entered slowly and closed the door behind him. Hermione caught a glimpse of Lucius still standing in the living room as if nothing had happened and he was a daily visitor to the flat.

"Hermione, I'm really sorry to have shocked you like this. I should have warned you," the apologetic voice of Harry said. Hermione looked at him with a sigh; she could see the pleading in his eyes as he willed her to understand.

"It's okay, Harry. I'm just feeling really on edge at the moment and having Malfoy here doesn't help."

"I know, I know. It must be hard seeing him again and being reminded…" Harry said, not needing to finish the sentence.

"Reminded… Yes…of the Manor," Hermione said quietly, turning away from him to gaze out the window and see the bustling streets of London below. It had a sort of calming effect, as if the sight of content Muggles striding to and fro with brief cases and satisfied expressions were some kind of reminder of the normality that lay outside. The clear skies of autumn also provided a soothing touch, and Hermione felt oddly calm for a moment.

"You know, you seemed pretty fine when you were out there, shouting your head off at Malfoy," Harry said with a rueful grin. Hermione turned around to smile weakly at him. She had to admit that even she didn't know such fire existed within her. Maybe all the weeks of being quiet had suddenly reversed in that moment and she had simply ignited and exploded at the smallest spark.

"I felt pretty fine, but I don't think I am now," Hermione said, sitting down on the bed with a sigh. Harry gave her a concerned look as he perched down next to her.

"We can help you come through this, Hermione," he said reassuringly while Hermione felt bitter tears prickle her eyes. Her courage had left her.

"You don't understand, Harry. As much as you and Ron are trying to help, I don't think we're going to be able to do anything about it," she replied sadly, drawing up her knees and wrapping her arms around her legs.

"Then help us understand, Hermione, so that we can fight it!" Harry said, putting a firm hand on her arm and giving her the familiar look of fierce determination he had so often worn before the fight with Voldemort. Hermione smiled; she smiled at him for his devotion; she smiled at him for his willingness to help; but most of all, she smiled, sadly, at the memories of them when they had once been innocent young schoolchildren without a worry in the world. It had been so long since she could sit back and simply laugh without darkness lapping at her. It seemed Voldemort's destructive touch had left its mark on her…

The two friends both leapt when they heard the sound of a voice in the next room.

"BLOODY HELL! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, MALFOY?"

"Oh, Merlin… Sounds like Ron's back," Harry said with a sigh as he rose and left the room to sort out the mess. Hermione stayed where she was, not wanting to face Lucius Malfoy just yet. She wanted to appear strong and collected when she met him again, and she wasn't ready for that right now…

The darkness, it gnawed at her…

4\. A Matter of Trust

Fear; she could taste it in every cell of her body. Her poor body ached with fear, never to be relieved of it, never to be quenched. She would be living in fear forever…

Something was out there…

Something in the dark…

Something unforgivable…

Hermione woke up with a small cry. It took her a moment to orientate herself as she stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom in the pitch black. She could hear nothing but her own laboured breathing, but she was sure that something had been there only moments ago. She was convinced that something was out there, in the darkness, waiting to take her and devour her…

She looked over to the door of her room and saw no light that hinted of anyone else to be awake. She sighed shakily and remained clutching the edge of her bedspread, listening for…she didn't know what.

After reassuring herself that there was nothing in the room that was breathing besides herself, she slowly peeled back the covers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her mind felt surprisingly empty of her usual whirring thoughts and as she rose to go to the bathroom, she felt somewhat soothed by her body actually doing something, distracting her from her thoughts. Her thumping heartbeat slowed to her usual rate as she quietly opened the door and stepped out into the darkness.

She didn't feel fear now; this darkness whispered of safety. As she crossed the living room to get to the bathroom on the other side, she smiled in relief at the thought of Ron and Harry staying the night in the spare bedroom as they had shouted down her weak protests in exemplary fits of Gryffindor gallantry. They didn't want to leave her on her own with her frequent nightmares, and had insisted that they stay until the problem was solved.

Hermione had to admit that she was glad for their presence in the house, even if she pretended otherwise. She had made sure that she had left the room whenever Lucius was around as she didn't want to speak with him. Besides the darkness, he was what she feared. She was grateful that Harry had gone to such lengths as to secure Malfoy's loyalty to them temporarily with an Unbreakable Vow, but she really didn't think having Malfoy in the house would ever help. As far as she was concerned, he was just another source of overwhelming fear.

She reached the bathroom without a single painful bump of furniture; she had quickly come to memorise the simple layout of her flat and knew how to avoid the sofa when crossing the room. Having finished her business in the bathroom, she sleepily made her way back to the room, eyes drooping again as her body felt that being awake at one in the morning wasn't very agreeable.

She blinked dozily as she walked into something tall that was standing in the open doorway of her room, obstructing her way. The sleep in her eyes vanished in a flash as she felt the sudden, cold plunge of fear descend upon her, choking her.

This was it. The shadow had come at last to get her… The darkness would take her and her dreams would no longer be a fragment of her mind, but as real as the day to come. Her heart was in her throat and her lungs wouldn't breathe properly. She felt suddenly cold as an icy draft caught her bare ankles. Her life was flashing before her eyes, and how could this be happening to her? She was too young to die… This just couldn't be happening to her…

Oh gods!

She was going to die… She opened her mouth and began to scream, almost fainting in fear, knowing that the darkness had finally caught up with her…

"Be quiet!" a voice hissed in her ear from behind her as a hand clamped down on her mouth.

Hermione froze, half-recognising the voice, but unable to believe that he would be here, wondering around her flat at this insane time of night. Or even morning. Slowly, slowly, the hand came away from her mouth and Hermione realised that she wasn't about to die.

Only then, was she aware of her body, dressed in a simple nightgown, pressed against his as her senses slowly returned from the state of shut down the momentary fear had caused. She felt him shift slightly, robes swishing quietly in the dark as a wandtip lit up and illuminated the scene. Hermione stared up with wide eyes at the face of Lucius Malfoy, feeling terror at seeing him, in the dark, standing close to him. Too close.

"Kindly remain quiet, Miss Granger. There are some in the house who may wish to sleep."

Hermione just stared up at him in shock as he swiftly stepped away from her and proceeded to smooth down the front of his robes before he glanced around the empty room with a wary look. It took a while for his words to sink in, and when Hermione finally realised what he had said, she felt the familiar feeling of anger boiling in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't as if Malfoy cared for anyone besides himself! How dare he even pretend to care?

"What are you doing here?" she whispered, her voice coming out hoarser than she had anticipated. Lucius shot her an annoyed look as he retreated from the doorway of her room and gestured for her to return to her room. Hermione didn't obey but continued to stare up at him, wanting an answer. She felt highly disturbed at seeing him, especially in the surrounding darkness as she was all too easily reminded of just what he might do to her when the boys weren't watching over her protectively.

"I assumed you might have gathered by now that I am expected to look out for this…thing that is supposedly haunting you," he replied, his voice quieter than usual.

"But no-one said you'd be staying here overnight!" Hermione said, her whisper coming out harsh and forced. She saw Lucius refrain from rolling his eyes as he tried to remain patient.

"I am guessing Potter didn't tell you as you would have probably made too much of a fuss if you knew," Lucius explained, glancing at Hermione in the eyes before looking away again to her dark bedroom. Hermione felt betrayed; she didn't like it how Harry hadn't even told her that Malfoy was going to be present on a regular basis, let alone stalking about at night. She was surprised that even Ron, who had matched Hermione's reluctance to accept Lucius with his own rage and disbelief, hadn't warned her that Lucius would be watching over her when she was asleep. Maybe Ron didn't know either; he wouldn't have just left me to walk into Malfoy like that and make me panic like hell!

"I suggest you go back to sleep, Miss Granger," Lucius said coldly as she stood there in silence. Hermione would have liked to make a protest, but was stopped by the warning look the man gave her. His light grey eyes were boring into her as if he were silently commanding her to go to bed in his head, and expecting her to obey by the sheer willpower displayed by his eyes.

"Don't tell me you're sitting around here at night, watching out for me?" Hermione said, still not moving any closer to her bedroom. She simply had to know what he had been up to. There was no trusting him.

"Believe it or not, Miss Granger, my duty is apparently to make sure you don't do something foolish like trying to throw yourself out the window or screaming and waking up the other occupants of the house," Lucius said, this time unable to avoid rolling his eyes in boredom at the conversation. Hermione felt irritated by him, and forgot to be scared of him as she only saw his infuriating superior air.

"What if I don't believe that?" she asked in fierce whisper. She saw Lucius turn to face her so that his eyes gave her a horribly intense look.

"Trust me, Miss Granger," was his simple, whispered reply which made Hermione shiver as a strange ripple went up her spine.

"There's no trusting the darkness," she breathed back as she stepped through the door and turned to close the door shut. She really didn't want him to watch her while she slept. It was an unbearably frightening thought. As she was about to close the door, she caught sight of his pale face, eerily lit up by the light of his wand, the surrounding darkness throwing menacing shadows over his face while his cold, narrowed eyes watched her closely. Hermione suppressed another shiver as she firmly closed the door with a click and pressed herself against the cool wood of the door for a moment, trying to quell the confused thoughts that swirled in her mind.

Was there any note of sincerity in a man like that? Was there anything to trust?


	3. III

5\. The Silver Serpent

The rain was pattering against the window, its light tapping unnoticed by the room's sole occupant. The night was starting to give way to the dawn as the unseeing black turned to a deep crush of blue. The curtains of the room had been loosely drawn across the window, making it difficult for any light to wriggle in. It was still night in here.

The double bed against one wall was accommodating a spasmodically writhing figure who was muttering out loud and twisting the bed sheets with jerky movements of her pale hands. Sweat was forming on her face while a look of terror was etched upon her brow. Frowning deeply as she gave small gasps of pain, her noises of unnatural dreams played against the steady lash of rain outside like a sinister symphony.

"Where did you get it?" the voice of a woman shrieked at her, voice cracking slightly as it hit a higher pitch. "Tell me now, Mudblood or we'll see just how filthy your blood is!"

"Please! We just found it! It's not the real one! It's a fake!" Hermione screamed back, pleading with her tormentor to see with some pity. As a bony hand grabbed her wrist in a harsh grip, Hermione cried harder, already feeling the tremors of pain that was to come. "NO! It's a mistake! The sword's a fake! Please, I'm telling the truth!" 

"Do I look like I believe in the words of a Mudblood?" the madwoman cackled back at her, leering with yellow craze in her wide eyes. "Do you really think I will believe a filthy liar like you?" The unhinged laughter that followed sent cold shivers shooting up Hermione's spine as she tried to pull away from her persecutor.

"NO!" Hermione screamed as Bellatrix let go of her and raised her wand. "Help me!" she cried in desperation to the three pale faces behind her torturer. "Malfoy! Please!" she shrieked, her sight blurred by the fierce torrent of tears running unchecked down her cheeks as she tried to find the face of Draco in the room.

"CRUCIO!"

Her scream was so loud it echoed around the tall drawing room of Malfoy Manor and bounced back at her to join in harmony with her next guttural cry of pain. Blackness was edging into her vision and she was straining to see as the unimaginable pain racked through her body and tore it to shreds with vicious rips. Just as she felt it all swirling away from her, she found the face she had been looking for and stared straight into the horrified grey eyes of Draco.

Hermione could feel the reverberations of the curse shaking her and jerking her body around still. Even as her senses woke from her nightmare, she could feel something shaking her. Opening her eyes to the darkness, she wondered if she was actually back at the Manor as she began seeing the memory rise before her eyes. The pale, gaunt face of her once school-arch-nemesis now looked aghast at her, unable to believe that blood was all that mattered in the world. He was standing fully formed now as he slowly raised an arm to reach out to her…

"Draco," Hermione pleaded in a hoarse whisper, feeling sickened even in her pain, at how the young man who was the same age as her had been forced to do unmentionable things.

"It's Lucius, actually," a voice said from beside her, and Hermione felt a surge of electricity crack through her as she leapt out of bed and flung herself towards the window, grabbing her wand from off the bedside table along the way. With the cool glass and rough curtains pressed against her back, she felt a tiny bit safer as her back was covered, but her heart was beating madly inside its cage and her blood was thundering in her ears. She peered around the dark room in nervous apprehension, fear rising as she realised that there was not enough light to see anything.

Was she still in her dream? Had he come to haunt her as well?

"As much as this game amuses me, Miss Granger, I think I must spoil the moment and tell you there is nothing to fear," Lucius said in his smooth voice as his wand lit up. Hermione recoiled and immediately had to squint at the bright light that glowed from by the bedside. After a moment spent getting used to it, she could see the rough outline of Malfoy standing beside her bed, looking at her with a cold smile.

"Where's Draco?" she asked, confused at everything as she had been certain he had been standing before her only moments ago.

"Sleeping at home, I presume, like any normal person would at this time of night," Lucius said in a careless tone, still not lowering his wand and half-blinding Hermione because of it.

"Can you please put that out?" Hermione asked wearily, forgetting her mind's turmoil as she raised her hands to cover her eyes. She was relieved when the glow faded and a candle on her bedside table flared up instead. She lowered her hands, but kept a tight grip on her wand, too fearful of the night to trust anything, especially Lucius Malfoy.

"Why are you here?" she asked, remaining where she was out of fright, but adopting an aggressive tone at finding him disturbing her for the second time that night.

"You were creating a most unpleasant racket, and I do believe that I am supposed to stop you from disturbing anyone with your noises," Lucius replied too calmly for such a haunting situation. He always sounded too calm and it only served to infuriate Hermione as she felt severe dislike swamp her thoughts.

"You bastard!" she hissed at him, raising her wand and aiming at his chest.

"Excuse me?" Lucius said, sounding offended at the unexpected insult as he raised a fine eyebrow at her.

"You complete bastard!" Hermione spat, feeling sudden hatred cover the fear pumping through her. "How can you just stand there like that and mock my dreams? Do you realise just how bad they are?" She asked, hysteria making her whispered voice break into rising tones. "Do you even know what that utter bitch did to me?" Hermione yelled at him, gesturing wildly to match her passionate words. "You would never know what it's like to wake up screaming every night! You… You with your perfect pureblood ways! You heartless bastard! Damn you to hell!"

Lucius received the shrieking accusations with his usual look of impassiveness, and it only made Hermione get fired up even more.

"You bloody stuck-up snob! You just stand there, drawling away while some of us have to put up with the shit your lot threw at us!" Hermione screamed at him, grabbing a random book from the desk beside her and hurling it at his face. She just wanted to smash that arrogant exterior, that face which represented everything that had made her life a hell. It was only right that she was allowed to hate back with the deepest loathing. After all, the hate and discrimination she had received from the pureblood supremacists had reduced her to what she was now; waking up screaming every night and feeling cold hands grip at her.

Lucius gave a small flick of his wand and the book halted in mid-flight to drop to the floor with a loud thud. Hermione faced him with a maddened snarl, feeling furious beyond anything she had ever felt before. Nine years of pureblood oppression was suddenly bursting to be retaliated and Hermione could feel herself be seized by a rage she had never expected of herself. There was a slight stammer of confusion as she felt herself to be divided in two for a split second, her body controlled by her unleashed anger, but her mind hesitating to act on impulse. Why am I feeling so angry? I never knew I hated anyone so much… I thought I had got over the pureblood prejudice against me with my empathy…

"Calm down, Miss Granger," Lucius snapped at her, pulling her out of her thoughts. She gazed at him, the blackness edging into her vision familiar enough to be dismissed, and felt something creep into her, planting predator seeds within her pure heart.

"Don't tell me what to do, Malfoy!" she snarled back at him while she noticed that he was looking a lot more serious. "You don't have the right to tell me fuck all!"

"There is no need to use such language," Lucius continued serenely while Hermione let out a strangled cry of frustration. How can he continue to stand there like everything's fine and tell me off like some professor?

"Fuck you, you son of a bitch!" Hermione spat, too angry to care about his reaction. She just had to let it all out.

"Miss Granger, I am warning you," Lucius said in a threatening tone while Hermione gave him a deadly glare.

"You can say what you like! She doesn't come to haunt you every night! She doesn't Crucio you into waking up!"

Lucius made no reply, but his mouth had settled in a thin line as Hermione yelled at him. There was no need to point out who she was referring to. Only Bellatrix Lestrange would have instilled enough fear in Hermione to have her screaming like that and completely lose her self-control.

"And you!," Lucius looked up, unmoved at Hermione as she directed her accusation at him. "You didn't do a damn thing but just watched her torture me! She would have done it until the point of insanity if I hadn't been saved by Ron and Harry!"

"There was nothing I could do," Lucius said stiffly, feeling distinctly awkward with the situation. The truth was feeling incredibly uncomfortable and he was reluctant to face it.

" 'Nothing you could do?' Are you insane?" Hermione screeched at him. "Is it really that hard to listen to your conscience and do the right thing?"

Lucius said nothing; his mouth had gone dry.

"But I guess doing the right thing is unheard of for you," Hermione said venomously with an uncharacteristic sneer on her face. "Look what happened to Draco. He would have helped me, but all that pureblood shit you planted in him kept him back! Your stupid decisions let him be fucked up by Voldemort! You're such a shit father!" Hermione exclaimed with a mad laugh that didn't sound remotely like her. "A fucking poor excuse for a human!"

Lucius snapped then; he couldn't bear the thought of reliving through all his personal horrors, and being told he was unworthy by some girl was making his anger knock down the barrier of calm composure. He crossed the room in a few strides and had his hand around Hermione' throat in a matter of seconds. His arm pressed her into the window while he stared down at her, livid.

Hermione's strange laughter died on her lips as she felt cold fingers wrap curl around her neck and start to tighten. All her thoughts of fury and scorn vanished as deathly fear descended on her once again. Malfoy was looking terrifying in his silent wrath, and there was no mistaking the look of murderous intention in his glazed eyes. He wasn't looking human at all as his nostrils flared and something lethal glimmered in his eyes, reminding Hermione of Voldemort.

"Don't you ever dare to presume anything about me, you stupid girl!" he hissed at her, every syllable sounding ten times sharper and making Hermione flinch in terror. "It will be all too easy to kill you!"

Hermione began shaking violently as the grey eyes staring at her hatefully turned into a maddened yellow tint and a mad cackle rang in her ears. She began hearing her nightmare all over again while images of it flashed before her eyes. The real fingers around her throat went unnoticed as she already felt herself to be choking and suffocating from something else. Some invisible fingers that would strangle her without a hint of mercy…

"NO!" she suddenly screamed. "Get away from me!" she yelled at the image of a cruelly smiling Bellatrix while her hands lashed out in front of her, striking flesh. She didn't see Lucius for a moment as her legs gave way without so much as a warning and she found herself falling to her knees with a painful smack. She panted and gasped in her attempts to breathe as she felt iron serpents wrap themselves around her, slowly squeezing the life out of her…

"It's not real, I swear!" she shouted to the room, tears of desperation falling from her eyes as she stared into the darkness and tried to see where she was. The sound of Bellatrix was slowly dying in her ears, and her vision cleared as the last of the madwoman's taunts faded into silence. Hermione's breath came in quick, short gasps as she tried to calm down. Where am I?

The image of Lucius swam into view as he looked down at her with a strange expression. He looked slightly flustered and bothered as he remembered the night of where his misgivings truly started. Hermione gazed up at him, trying to remember what she had said to him, vaguely remembering uttering words of hurtful insult. Something about ruining Draco's life and not helping me. Oh no! I called him a shit father! I didn't mean to say that! It just fell out of my mouth, as if someone else was saying it through me! What shall I do? He's probably going to kill me for that!

"Feeling sorry, Mudblood?" he asked her with a hateful sneer while Hermione truly thought he could be forgiven for using the derogatory term after she had insulted him like that. But then the feeling of compassion disappeared as the uncontrollable rage that didn't seem to belong to her flared up again like a forest fire. The anger told her he had no right to force his untruthful prejudices on her and make her suffer anymore. And before she knew what she was doing, she was snarling like a rabid wolf.

"Fuck off, you demented bastard!"

"Don't you dare talk to me like that, girl!" Lucius shouted at her, feeling his calm exterior slipping away as he made to grab her by the arm and draw her to her feet. Hermione felt his hands throw her against the window again while she thrashed around and kicked out at him. Lucius leapt back as her foot narrowly missed his delicate regions and he retreated slightly.

"BASTARD!" she screamed at him.

There was a blinding flash of electric blue as a jet of light streaked towards Lucius, swifter than a blink of an eye. The confusion of the moment only mounted as a silvery shield suddenly erupted in front of him and the spell rebounded off towards the armoire sitting innocently in another corner. The large piece of furniture exploded with a loud crash upon being hit and both Lucius and Hermione watched in surprise as the firm boards of white wood shattered into needles and splinters that scattered into the air before raining down quietly onto the floor. Strange, hair-raising currents rippled through the blasted air as the sound died down and sudden silence followed. The candle flickered and spluttered, threatening to go out while menacing shadows flew around the room like soulless wraiths.

Hermione was horrified; had she just cast that curse? She didn't even know what it was and if that had hit Lucius, then he would be…very much like that armoire. Her eyes were fixed on where the piece of pretty furniture had previously stood, fear at herself shooting around her. What's happening? How did I just cast a spell that I didn't know?

She slowly turned to look at Lucius and met his steely eyes that were gazing at her with piercing strength. His face was deathly pale and he wore a strange expression which was a mix between shock and disbelief. Hermione stared back at him, not knowing what to say, because as much as she knew she had wanted to hurt him, she was sure she wouldn't have tried to kill him like that. His shield faded into nothing and Hermione could see his face clearer than ever. There was no mistaking the expression of alarm on his face.

"The Dark Arts, Miss Granger? I never knew," he eventually said, his voice extremely quiet as he continued to study her. He seemed to have forgotten their previous exchange of verbal abuse and Hermione felt it slipping away from her mind's grasp, unable to recall what she had said only moments ago.

"That wasn't me," Hermione whispered back, chest thumping still as the energy in her drained away and her arm fell to her side, empty of life force as her wand clattered to the ground.

"Then who was it? Hmm?" Lucius asked, a note of mirthless mocking creeping into his even tones, but his face didn't look like he was putting any real effort into sounding malicious.

"I – I would never have done that," Hermione stuttered, nervous and scared by her own doing, although she was sure she hadn't done anything that might have triggered a spell, besides raise her wand. But that was a mere action! I needed a word to form a spell. She looked at Lucius pleadingly, willing him to hear her. From the way his eyes remained narrowed but he made no comment, she could tell he believed her. What other excuse was there? Everyone knew that the last three people on earth who would ever dream of using the Dark Arts were Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Everyone believed, and Lucius was no exception.

"What happened?" he asked her, wand lowering a fraction as he slowly took a step towards her, eyes looking searchingly at her face.

"I just… I don't know," she said, looking around the room as if she was going to find an answer. She didn't even notice that the taller wizard was standing closer to her, looking down at her with a curious expression. "I was just feeling really angry, and then my wand shot some spell at you. I don't even know what that was."

"You are absolutely sure you didn't know that spell?" Lucius asked, now within arm's reach of her.

"Of course I am!" she said frantically, looking up at him and feeling anxiety gnaw at her. What was going on?

"It can't be possible," Lucius muttered as he turned away from her and walked back to his original position across the room from her. Hermione watched him, desperately hopeful for some answer or solution to the situation. She saw him lean against the wall slightly, head at a profile view to her while he frowned, deep in thought.

"Please. What's going on?" she asked him after a minute of barely maintained silence which was broken by her fear and confusion.

"Quiet!" Lucius hissed as he turned to glare at her. "I am trying to think."

Hermione repressed the urge to say something else and instead, tried to soothe her jumping nerves by turning around to face the window and drawing back the curtains to look out into the night. The rain was still falling, and large pools of dark water glistened on the empty road below. The orange light from the streetlamp flickered slightly, but the light it shed didn't look warm at all. It looked downright ominous.

Hermione shivered slightly as she gently pressed her nose to the glass, ignoring the sounds of Lucius muttering something quietly behind her. There was something in the shadows of the alleyway between two buildings opposite her. She squinted to see what it was, feeling a strange pull towards the spot. After a moment or two of hard staring, her tension was relieved when a black cat slinked out of the darkness and shot across the street towards her side, calming her down slightly. Only a cat, she thought with a slight sigh of relief. The lurking sense of wrongness seemed to have evaporated as her overly-suspicious mind was put to rest. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply; the night was too long and she desperately wanted the sun to rise. At least in daytime, nothing seemed to frighten her and try and chase her.

She opened her eyes and stared; the face from that night a week ago was staring back at her through the glass, skin too pale to be alive and yellow eyes clouded over unseeingly while the blurred edges had sharpened since last time.

She screamed in alarm and leapt back from the window, tripping over her own feet and falling over as she tried to get away from the face that looked like it belonged to that of an inferi. She heard Lucius hurrying over and crashed into his legs as she backed away from the window, icy fear gripping her as the blue lips of the dead face curled ever so slightly into a sick smile and the eyes rolled back into the skull, leaving only white in the sunken sockets.

"Granger!" Lucius shouted at her, but Hermione barely heard him, seeing only that face smiling at her with a dead look.

"GRANGER!"

Hermione felt herself being pulled to her feet and roughly turned away from the window to face Lucius. She was breathing harshly again and her heart was thumping madly as her gaze was met with a pair of steely grey eyes. Strong hands gripped her arms in vice-like holds while Lucius shook her slightly to bring her attention back to him.

"What did you see? What did you see?" he asked urgently, his eyes staring deeply into her, making Hermione feel hollow and transparent.

"A – a face," she said, out of breath and still trembling with terror.

"What face?" Lucius pressed on, shaking her again.

"A d-dead face!" Hermione yelped suddenly as she felt herself wake fully again. "I've seen it before but I don't know who it is!"

Lucius let go of her and swiftly stepped past her to stare out the window. He could see nothing but the night sky, and after a moment of further inspection and no worrying result, he turned back to Hermione.

"Do you remember anything you said to me before?" he asked abruptly while Hermione tried to think about it. What had she said to him? Something about Draco… Had she called him a son of a bitch? She didn't know for certain, for she was sure she would never consciously say something so offensive like that, even to Lucius Malfoy.

"I – I don't know. Something about Draco. And something offensive," she muttered, embarrassed by the thought of herself shouting vulgarities at someone. She really didn't believe in verbal abuse as her parents had always told her that it would only serve to lower her.

"Offensive, indeed," Lucius said with a humourless smile as he came away from the window and approached her briskly. Hermione blanched and drew back, scared that he might hurt her, for she could recall the feeling of his fingers grasping her throat, if she remembered nothing else.

"Please. Don't come near me," she said, backing away towards the open door. She wondered why Harry and Ron hadn't come running at the loud exchange between her and Malfoy. They hadn't exactly been quiet.

"I won't hurt you, Miss Granger," Lucius said firmly, regaining his formal attitude.

"I can't trust you," Hermione told him, eyes searching for her wand and seeing it lying across the room, behind Malfoy.

"I am not going to force you to trust me, but you would do well to listen to what I tell you," Lucius said, stopping a short distance away from her and watching her intensely. Hermione glanced at his face to note his stoic expression before dropping down to the wand clutched in his hand. How easy would it be for him just to give it a wave and she'd be gone?

"Wait!" Hermione told him as he came another step closer. "Don't come any nearer!" Lucius raised his brow at her in question while she thought of why she had just said that. Her inner mind was in chaos and finding an answer took a moment. "If you do, that – that thing will come back."

"What thing?" Lucius asked her, not following her mad trail of thoughts.

"That thing that made me do and say all those things," Hermione replied, not knowing where the answers came from but sure of her words. Her mind seemed to be clearing as she spoke. "I'm not sure what's going on, but I don't think that was me shouting at you."

"And why should I believe you?" Lucius asked her, buying time with his words as he tried to figure out what she meant.

"I…" Hermione trailed off, uncertain how to convince him. After her confession, she could only expect the same of him; he wouldn't trust her.

The scrabbling for reasons was put to rest by the arrival of Ron and Harry at the door.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, stifling a yawn before he looked around the dim room and eyed Lucius suspiciously.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, running over to him and throwing her arms around him to hug him tightly. She needed to be held right now to take away all the confusion and fear.

"What's wrong, Mione?" Ron asked uncertainly as he slowly wrapped his arms around her and began worrying even more as she began crying into his chest. "Did you do this?" he asked Lucius, anger rising in his face.

"Ron, I don't think Mr Malfoy would do anything –" Harry started from behind him, about to explain that Lucius couldn't do anything to hurt Hermione because of the Vow, but Ron dismissed him with a shake of his head.

"If you even did so much as lay a finger on her –" he started heatedly, but Lucius cut in, a sour look on his face.

"Although your case may be different, Weasley, I can safely say that I do not lack intelligence, unlike some," Lucius sneered while Ron's face went deep red. Before he could retort, however, Hermione had torn herself away from him and whirled around to face Lucius, face a tearful mess but looking dangerously fuming nonetheless.

"Don't you dare insult him!" she half-yelled at Lucius while he received her vicious words with a mild expression of wariness.

"Miss Granger, let us not get carried away again," he told her with warning in his voice.

"Don't tell me what to do, Malfoy!" she shouted, not realising that she was repeating herself. Harry and Ron watched nervously as Hermione took a few furious steps towards Lucius until she was standing a metre away from him.

"You don't have the right to tell me fuck all!" she shrieked, vision swirling and blurring as she felt her hand lash out of its own accord, a flash of silver leaving a gleaming after-trail in the air. Harry and Ron watched in silent horror as Lucius swiftly bent backwards to avoid the slashing of Hermione's arm and quickly grabbed her by the elbow and squeezed. Hermione immediately gave a yelp of pain and crumpled to the floor under his grip, iron fingers pressing on her nerve point. Something clattered to the floor beside her and everyone in the room turned to stare at it.

A small silver knife.

"Oh my god…" Hermione breathed, starting to shake from shock. "OH MY GOD!" she screamed, leaping backwards and hitting the edge of the bed painfully. The eyes of the three men in the room were drawn to her as she trembled and shook with fearful recognition.

"Hermione?" Harry asked tentatively, uncertain if she was in a state to hear him.

"It's hers," Hermione said, trance-like. "It's the one that killed Dobby."

Harry looked at the thin silver instrument and noticed the coiled serpent that formed the hilt. He could also see some dark liquid staining the perfect edge of the knife, gleaming sinisterly in the flickering candle-light.

"What's it doing here?" Harry asked, completely dumbfounded as he knelt down to pick up the knife.

"Don't touch it, Potter!" Lucius suddenly snarled, making them all jump as he brought a foot down on the blade. At Harry's bewildered face, Lucius proceeded to make the knife vanish with his wand.

"It might be cursed," he said in explanation while Ron discovered his control over his body again and moved over to Hermione to draw her up and hug her again. He didn't notice the slightly nauseous look Lucius shot at him but continued to coo things into Hermione's ear as she stared at the spot where the knife had fallen.

"What shall we do?" Harry asked, disliking the dark feeling in the room. It was like he could feel something nasty had been in the room.

"I suggest you all go back to sleep as there is little we can do at this time of night," Lucius told them as he glanced around the room, pausing to study the window. Harry stepped back outside to return to his bed, but waited as Ron gently made Hermione sit down on the bed and said soothing words of encouragement. Hermione was feeling too dazed to hear what Ron was saying, and although she could feel his comforting presence, it wasn't enough to quell the fear lurking in the deepest chambers of her heart.

"I'm not staying in here," she announced quite suddenly, making the others all look at her.

"It's just one more night, Hermione," Ron told her reassuringly. "We can decide what happens in the morning."

"I'm not staying in here," Hermione repeated, standing up suddenly and glancing around the room. "I can still feel her hanging around…"

"Potter, Weasley; go back to bed. Miss Granger, I suggest you either drink lots of coffee, or go get some rest on the couch," Lucius told her curtly, herding them all out at her words and closing the door behind him with a firm click. Harry gave Hermione a reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading for the spare room where he was camped. Ron gave Hermione a final hug and a shy little kiss on the cheek (having made sure Lucius wasn't looking) and followed Harry.

Hermione could feel the warmth spreading from where Ron had kissed her and finally felt her senses returning. She walked over to the sofa and without a single thought about Malfoy standing in the room, she collapsed onto the couch and immediately fell into an exhausted sleep.

Lucius watched her for several long minutes before he relented and conjured up a blanket to throw over her. He wished he could simply fall asleep like the girl and give his whirring mind a rest, but there was too much thinking to do, and he had all night to do it.  
6\. The House at Grimmauld Place

"–We can't be sure."

"So this…face was at the window?"

"Apparently."

"And she was swearing at you?"

"That would be an understatement."

"Oh, okay…"

"As I was saying, Potter, I do not think it wise to leave her unsupervised, even at night."

Hermione woke up at the quiet voices in the living room of her flat. She blinked groggily and stared around for a moment, wandering what had happened the night before. She was sure it hadn't been pleasant, but the memory was vague and slipping away from her the more she tried to remember. As her senses slowly woke, she stretched and realised she had been sleeping on the couch. Throwing off the blanket that she did not recall owning, she sat up, immediately regretting the move.

Her head throbbed and there was a painful ache around her eyes. She had to grab the back of the sofa so as not to fall back again. Closing her tired eyes again, she groaned slightly in pain.

"Ah… She is awake," she heard Lucius say.

"Hermione?" Harry called to her while Hermione slowly reopened her eyes to look at him. He was looking worried as he came over to her. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine," Hermione answered with another moan. She really didn't want to talk right now as her mind was whirling with a migraine.

"No nightmares?" Harry asked, crouching behind the sofa so that his face was level with hers.

"Nuh-uh," Hermione uttered in a muffled way denial. It was odd; she couldn't recall a night since the death of Voldemort that hadn't been filled with some sort of bad dream. The fading hours of last night was the exception; she had simply lost all her strength after the shouting match with Lucius and the strange appearance of the knife.

The knife!

"What happened to the knife?" Hermione asked, ignoring her headache in her sudden desperation to know. She opened her eyes wide, eyes searching Harry's face for an answer.

"I got rid of it," a cold voice announced smoothly from behind Harry as Lucius sauntered over. Hermione turned her head slightly to look up at him and frowned at the arrogant face. She really didn't like having to see him first thing in the morning, but she was glad that he wasn't looking so scary in the daylight.

"What happened last night?" she asked, directing the question at Harry.

"Well, um… You apparently started calling Mr Malfoy some names and then tried to blow him up with some Dark curse. Then, you saw a face at the window and screamed and me and Ron woke up so we came over to your room. Bellatrix's knife appeared also and you tried to cut Mr Malfoy…"

Flashes of memories burst into her head as Hermione suddenly recalled certain vivid images that seemed to be burnt on the insides of her eyes. It was like looking at a photo album; with closed eyes, she could see the snarling face of Lucius as she said something to him. She remembered the feeling of his hand around her throat and then blacking out. The flash of blue light that had shot from her wand was another vibrant image as well as the shock on Lucius' face afterwards. Then the haunting face swam up and she shivered as her mind saw the dead blue lips smile sinisterly and the yellow eyes roll back.

"No…" she whimpered out loud as her eyes flew open again and she was met by the concerned face of Harry instead.

"What?" he asked her quietly, emerald eyes searching her face frantically to find an answer.

"That face… It seems so familiar, but I can't place it…" Hermione explained, eyes wandering past Harry to the tall man standing behind, watching her impassively.

"What does it look like?" Harry asked, knowing that Hermione might not want to tell him, and ready to accept should that happen.

"Very dead," Hermione replied in a drifting voice as she turned to look out at the blue sky through the window. "Like an inferi."

"Do you remember how it got there?"

"No. It was just there when I opened my eyes. Same as last time," Hermione replied, attention coming back to Harry while her friend frowned in deep thought. After a short silence, Harry stood up and turned to Lucius who was looking indifferent to the whole matter.

"I think it's this place," Harry told Lucius matter-of-factly while the older wizard gave a curt nod. "She's been like this ever since she moved in here."

"I am here, you know," Hermione told him irritably, disliking the fact that Harry made her sound like some mental patient who needed to be treated by a doctor. And if that doctor was going to be Lucius Malfoy, Hermione considered letting herself go insane rather than be treated by him.

"Miss Granger," Lucius began, grey eyes gazing at her steadily. "Do you recall anything you said to me last night?"

"Um…" Hermione said as she tried to remember. She was feeling extremely apologetic for something, but couldn't think just what. "I – I don't think I can," she said after a slight pause, feeling defeated.

"Then my suspicions seem to be confirmed," he said, turning back to Harry. "Something is haunting her here. She needs to be moved."

"We could all go to Grimmauld Place?" Harry offered. "Then I can watch her as well."

"I don't need to be watched!" Hermione interrupted huffily while Lucius raised a brow at her.

"I don't think that choice is for you to make, Miss Granger. We are talking about others' safety as well as yours," he said in a patronising tone that annoyed Hermione.

"Look, Hermione; if what you tried to do to Mr Malfoy is true, then you're better off living at mine until we figure out how to get rid of this curse," Harry told her reassuringly while she felt her heart sink. She didn't want to leave the flat she had come to love. All the evenings spent with her friends painted a pretty collage of memories in her mind and despite the lingering feeling of darkness she now felt, she wanted to ignore it and pretend that nothing had happened.

"Ginny will be there," Harry told her, as if it would sway her mind.

"Can't I just go stay at my parents'? They can look after me and you can all get on with your lives," Hermione suggested while Harry glanced at Lucius in uncertainty.

"Somehow, I think not," Lucius said, eyes on the girl but talking more to Harry. "If she is overwhelmed again, then there will be no-one to bring her back and I don't trust that knife not to appear again."

"Right. That's the final say then. Hermione, we have to keep you with us. We don't want anything to happen to you or your parents," Harry told her, crouching down before once more. He didn't see the barely disguised disdain on Lucius' face at the mention of Hermione's parents, but Hermione saw it and she felt angry at his prejudice.

"Fine!" she said in fiercer tones than she had intended. Harry gave her a nervous look before giving her a warm smile and patting her hand.

"It'll be even better, Hermione. We'll be able to have everyone over and you won't be so lonely," he said in an encouraging tone, knowing that she was feeling reluctant to leave. "You can come back when this is all over."

"Is he coming with us?" Hermione asked in a whisper, eyes darting towards Lucius to show who she meant. To her horror, she saw Lucius meet her eyes with a small smirk, as if he had heard.

"Yeah, we need him," Harry said, not noticing the small suppressed shiver Hermione gave at Lucius' piercing gaze.

"Potter, I propose we get out of here as soon as possible. Time is precious," Lucius drawled from behind him and Harry gave a nod of agreement. He turned back to give Hermione a reassuring smile as he offered her his hand.

"Come on, Hermione. I'll help you pack."

 

The square outside Grimmauld Place was home to several tall trees that were losing their summer shimmer and reddy brown leaves had carpeted the stiff green grass. The benches in the corners of the square were old and battered; having been deserted for more years than the residents of the area cared to recall. Not many people had the urge to spend their leisure time in the small square as there was a strange air of discomfort lingering around.

It was only lunchtime when the chattering of the busy birds was abruptly interrupted by several 'pops' as three people appeared out of nowhere and looked around. For the Muggles in the area, it was an odd sight; a young man with an incredibly messy mop of black hair was holding two suitcases, glasses a little askew and a strange lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Beside him, stood a young woman with a mane of bushy brown hair that had somehow been tied back with a navy band, but looked like it had a mind of its own and was determined to escape its tie. Her face held an expression of uncertainty as a small, sad smile sat on her lips.

She was clutching another bag and a basket carrier that seemed to contain some sort of animal. To her right, the most striking of the three newcomers stood, holding himself tall and proud. He was wearing a black cloak and his hands were gloved and held a cane that on a closer glance, showed a serpent-handle which he was absent-mindedly caressing with a thumb. His long sleek mane of white-blond hair had been tied back and lay obediently down his back, a black ribbon holding it in its place. While the two younger wanders had expressions of mild satisfaction on their faces, he couldn't disguise his disdain as he looked around.

"You live in a Muggle park, Potter?" Lucius asked in his haughty tones while Hermione rolled her eyes from beside him.

"Does he look like a nature boy?" she asked sarcastically while Lucius glanced down his nose at her. Harry hurriedly stepped in to prevent another argument between the two and gave them a nervous smile.

"It's this way," he said before starting forwards and heading for the gate of the square. Hermione shot an annoyed look at Lucius as he gave a small mock bow.

"Ladies first, Miss Granger," he said, gesturing with his hand for her to follow Harry. Hermione made no reply but stuck out her chin and proceeded to march off after her friend, trying not to get irrationally annoyed at the man sauntering behind her. The three of them crossed the street, and Hermione couldn't help but look around anxiously as they were in broad daylight and Apparating had already caused her to worry about the risks of being seen. She glanced down the wide road that ran in front of the row of dilapidated grey houses, but saw no-one walking the streets of autumn London and turned back to see Harry touch the black metal railings that stood before houses eleven and thirteen.

"Harry, don't you think this is a bit risky?" Hermione asked as she looked up at Number Twelve with an unfazed expression, able to see the magically invisible house as Harry had made some changes to the Fidelius Charm protecting the building so it could suit his needs better. Harry glanced back at her and gave a shrug as he opened the newly formed gate and entered the property that had once belonged to the House of Black.

"I did think about Apparating straight onto the doorstep, but I think there would be problems with Mr Malfoy and plus, we wouldn't all fit," he said as he heaved the heavy suitcases up the steps, sweating slightly. Hermione followed, arms beginning to ache as she carried her load, the creature in the basket-carrier jolting about slightly.

"Stay still, Crookshanks!" Hermione said in a slightly reprimanding tone to the basket before climbing another step.

"You seem to be struggling, Miss Granger," the annoyingly drawled voice said from behind her and Hermione rolled her eyes again. She had taken to the habit ever since Lucius had joined their ranks and found it hard to stop herself from doing it. She turned around to look at the calm man standing at the bottom of the steps, a short distance from her and scowled.

"Feel like helping, Mr Malfoy?" she asked, knowing what the answer would be.

"Not particularly," Lucius replied looking away from her and giving the outside of the house a bored appraisal. Hermione just huffed to herself as she turned back to see Harry unlock the door and push it open. He disappeared inside and Hermione picked up the suitcase she had momentarily set down and dragged it up one more step before resting. Lucius, who was now standing on the step behind her, gave an impatient sigh as he took out a wand from an inner pocket of his cloak.

"Ever heard of magic, Miss Granger?" he asked in a bored tone as the suitcase and Crookshanks' carrier rose out of Hermione's grip and floated ahead of her into the house. She glanced back to give him another glare while he ignored her and concentrated on levitating the luggage. Just as the two of them stepped into the dark hallway, there were some yelps of pain from Harry as a suitcase crashed into him and promptly dropped itself on his toes, earning another bark of pain from him. Lucius closed the door behind him, trying to hide his amused look, but Hermione didn't miss the slight upturned corners of his lips as he peered at the dark shape of Harry hopping around.

"Sorry, Potter. Doesn't look like I've mastered that yet," he said airily while Hermione felt like smacking the man on the head. She resisted, and instead, made her way down the long dark hallway, careful to make the least noise as she tiptoed past the curtained portrait of old Mrs Black and walked towards the light that came from the open door of the kitchen. She saw Harry straighten up and send the luggage into the kitchen before him with his wand while Lucius took a moment to observe his surroundings.

A moment later, Hermione heard the telltale scream of the crazy Black mistress as the curtains pulled open violently and Lucius stared in mild surprise at the gruesome portrait of his aunt-in-law.

"Filthy blood traitors and Mudbloods soiling the house of my fathers! Get your stains of dishonour out of the House of Black, you disgusting miscreants!" the portrait shrieked while both Harry and Hermione came running back to close the curtains. Lucius regarded the screeching portrait with fading surprise and heaved a bored sigh. Mrs Black seemed to have realised that the blond man standing before her wasn't the usual stock that overran her beloved house.

"Who are you?" she barked at him in a tone that was unpleasant to the ear.

"Lucius Malfoy," he replied calmly while Mrs Black gasped in shock and drew back in her painted chair.

"The one who married my niece, Narcissa?" she asked in surprise.

"The very same," Lucius drawled while Hermione and Harry watched in astonishment, unable to believe that Mrs Black wasn't screaming her head off for one moment.

"Well, at least some good blood is redeeming the floors that the filthy blood traitors have been traipsing on," Mrs Black said approvingly while Lucius gave a small, respective nod. "Where are they? Where are the filthy Mudbloods and the Mudblood lovers?"

"HERE, YOU DEMENTED OLD BAT!" Harry suddenly yelled at the picture, having decided that enough was enough and he wasn't going to take any more use of the vulgar word. Mrs Black, upon spotting him, immediately began screaming and ranting.

"Filth! Disgusting taints of shame! Get your dirty feet off the floors! The noble men of Black have walked it and your bad blood is staining the house of noble blood!"

"Shut up!" Harry snarled as he pointed his wand and the curtains viciously drew back over the portrait, making it go silent once more. "Stupid hag," he muttered, a little red in the face as he turned and strode back into the kitchen. Hermione watched him go and glanced back at Lucius who seemed even more amused at the encounter.

"Well, you and her can set up a club, Mr Malfoy," she said sarcastically while Lucius turned to look at her.

"On what theme, Miss Granger? Calling you names or trying to throw you out the house?" he asked in mock politeness while Hermione ignored him and went into the kitchen. She smiled as she set eyes on the one room in the house that actually seemed warm and home-like. The long table that ran down the middle of the room reminded her of the days when the Order would all come for dinner and they would enjoy chats and family time. There was a fire going in the fireplace and Harry was busy stoking the flames with a poker as if manual labour was going to calm him down.

"It's good to be back," Hermione said as she gazed around the room. She hadn't been back at Grimmauld Place since one time after the end of the war when the remaining Order had done one memorial meeting for those who had died. Since then, she had had no chance to visit as Ron, Harry and Ginny all took to coming to her house as it was smaller and homelier.

"Glad you think so," Harry said, straightening up and giving her a small smile. He saw Lucius standing in the doorway, glancing around imperiously and decided that they should eat something.

"Kreacher!"

With a loud 'crack', an old, wrinkled house-elf appeared and bowed low to Harry, his long-nailed hands clutching the bright white dishcloth that served as his only item of clothing.

"Master Harry," Kreacher croaked. "Kreacher is delighted to greet master again."

"Thanks, Kreacher," Harry said while Kreacher gave him a genuine smile of reverence. "Can we have some lunch? I think everyone's pretty hungry."

"Of course, Master Harry. Kreacher has already prepared a meal for Master Harry and Master's Friend."

"Great," Harry said, turning to Lucius. "Mr Malfoy, would you like to eat with us?"

"I am fine, thank you," Lucius replied coolly, eyes flickering around the room. "I shall take a rest as I haven't had a chance to sleep as of yet."

"Sure. Kreacher, can you show Mr Malfoy his room?" Harry asked the elf, but found himself talking to an unhearing Kreacher. The house-elf was staring at the blond wizard in awe before he threw himself down before Lucius and gave fervent bows.

"Master Malfoy!" Kreacher croaked. "Kreacher welcomes master to the humble home of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black!"

Lucius made no reply but raised a brow at Harry in question. Harry exchanged curious and puzzled glances with Hermione before tapping Kreacher on the shoulder.

"Kreacher, I don't think you need to do the pureblood propaganda around here," Harry told him, dragging him up to his feet as the elf seemed intent on remaining on his knees before Lucius. "Can you go show Mr Malfoy to his room?"

"Kreacher would be honoured!" the elf croaked with another low bow at Lucius.

"Good. Off you trot," Harry told him and Kreacher marched forward eagerly while Lucius followed, having shot Harry a smug look that told him his house-elf was going to have some problems when it came to where the loyalty lay. When they were left alone, Hermione finally relaxed while Harry threw himself into a nearby armchair by the fire and sighed.

"Merlin… If Malfoy isn't going to start that pureblood rubbish, you can count on Kreacher to spout it," he said as he closed his eyes and massaged his temples. Hermione sat down on one of the benches by the table and watched Harry as he breathed deeply.

"I wish Ron were here. He would have said something funny," Hermione said wistfully while Harry opened an eye.

"He's better off at work. I don't think he'd have liked the combination of Malfoy, Kreacher and pureblood worshipping."

"I suppose…" Hermione answered wearily, feeling tired for some reason and eager to eat so that she could go rest. She was feeling drained for some reason and felt weaker than ever since their Apparition. Perhaps it was simply the stress from the night before…

 

Hermione slowly dragged her feet up the stairs, feeling satisfied from a wonderful lunch and looking forward to a nap. She hadn't minded when Harry had said he had taken the liberty of informing the ministry that she was taking a short break and was secretly very glad. She hadn't been feeling right for a long time and felt like she needed to sleep everything off. It didn't occur to her in her eagerness to close her eyes, that her sleep was actually more tiring than being awake.

She had trekked up to the second floor where Harry had given her the room she used to share with Ginny for her stay. She laid a hand on the doorknob when she heard some thumping noises from the floor above. Hermione froze, wondering if there were still some cursed objects of the Black family romping around, but decided against it when she heard a human voice snarl something indistinguishable from upstairs.

Recognising Lucius' voice, she heaved a tired sigh and decided to go and see what he was up to. Her curiosity would not die down even in her weary state and she managed to make her way up to the third floor to see the door to Sirius' room open. She began to wake up as she wondered what Lucius might be doing in the room and crept up noiselessly to peek her head through the small gap of the open door.

"Damn you, Black!" Lucius hissed as he nursed his right arm, apparently snarling at something on the wall. Hermione couldn't resist the temptation to bite in with a taunt as revenge for all of his previous insults to her.

"Talking to pictures, Mr Malfoy? You seem to have found a new hobby," Hermione said, stepping into the room as Lucius whirled around to face her.

"What are you talking about?" he snapped irritably, still holding his arm as he eyed Hermione warily. Hermione wondered why he was feeling so defensive. It wasn't like him to lose his composure and despite her outward attitude of being annoying, she was inwardly worried at what had happened.

"What happened to your arm?" she asked, any malicious tones lost to her as she couldn't help but voice her concern.

"Nothing," Lucius muttered, wincing as he let go of his arm and tried to pretend nothing was wrong.

"Rubbish!" Hermione exclaimed, not fooled by his show of pain endurance. She wasn't sure why she was even concerned about Malfoy being hurt, but she put it down to her Gryffindor trait of being compassionate to those in need.

"Excuse me?" Lucius asked in calm tones but eyes still flaring with controlled angry.

"You're hurt!" Hermione said, reaching out to take hold of his arm.

"I'm perfectly fine, Miss Granger," Lucius said coldly, retreating slightly so that he was well out of her reach. "Save your saintly pity for someone else."

"Just trying to help," Hermione muttered sulkily, dropping her arm and staring around the room. She hadn't been in Sirius' room before as she felt it to be private and only open to Harry. Now that she was in here, she couldn't help studying the large room with a growing smile. The fading silvery-grey silk that covered the walls had been plastered over with pictures of Gryffindor times and other things that were completely in contradiction with Slytherin ideals. She even laughed when she spotted the Muggle posters of girls in bikinis on the wall behind Lucius and blushed, knowing that Lucius was staring at her like she was some sort of mentally injured person.

"Sorry," Hermione choked out as she tried to stop guffawing. "Sirius is just so funny!"

"Indeed," Lucius said icily, his tone making Hermione stop laughing immediately. An awkward silence filled the room as she waited for him to say something more, but Lucius seemed quite content to stare down his nose at her and fix her with an arrogant look.

"Um… What bit you?" she asked tentatively, noticing that he was fingering his injured arm again.

"What gives you the idea that something bit me?" Lucius answered back while Hermione stopped herself from rolling her eyes.

"I don't know… Maybe because I heard you swearing away from downstairs and holding you arm like that?" she replied with heavy sarcasm lacing her voice.

"I do not utter vulgar things such as swearwords, Miss Granger," Lucius sneered at her. "Although I can say other individuals like to relegate themselves to an even lower level than they already are with the amount of profanities they spit."

"You know that wasn't me!" Hermione said in exasperation, knowing that she had apparently called him a lot of things the night before.

"And I clearly remember stating that I do not trust you, Miss Granger," he said haughtily as he turned away from her to regard the walls with a look of deep dislike. "Fool," he said quietly to the room while Hermione wandered for a moment who he was talking to.

"Are you talking to me?" she asked warily while Lucius turned to look at her with a look of mild surprise at finding her there.

"Certainly not, Miss Granger. I thought you might have discovered by now that I never insult anyone directly," Lucius said matter-of-factly. "I save the invectives for when the subject of my dislike is not listening. Much more polite."

"It's horrible, either way!" Hermione exclaimed in frustration at his weird logic. "Bad-mouthing people whether they're listening or not is cowardly and stupid!"

"I prefer to call it 'commenting'," Lucius replied lightly as he looked with disdain at the fading Gryffindor banners that were draped along the dusty top of the four-poster bed.

"You're preposterous!" she said to him loudly while he gave her a disinterested look.

"You were saying about bad-mouthing…?" he said while Hermione clamped her mouth shut furiously as he outwitted her in their argument.

"I hate you!" she said viciously when she could think of nothing else to say.

"How very kind of you to let me know, Miss Granger. I would never have guessed," he replied serenely while Hermione felt like punching him. Instead, she gave a strangled cry of frustration and marched out the room while Lucius smirked at her. It really was quite amusing for him to watch the girl wind herself up. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or not when Hermione came stomping back in again to glare at him.

"I don't think Harry will like having you in here. It's a private room."

"On the contrary, Potter said I could go anywhere I wish if it was to investigate this curse of yours," Lucius replied calmly while Hermione clenched her fists in her attempt to withhold her natural anger. Suddenly, her eyes were drawn back to the Muggle picture and an evil smile pulled at her lips.

"In that case, I suggest you have a look at that picture, Mr Malfoy," she said in a sincere voice, pointing to the bombshell on the wall behind him. "It looks like it might help you to relax your rigid views."

Lucius instinctively turned to where she pointed at and froze while Hermione stifled a laugh and ran from the room, knowing that if she stayed a moment longer, she would probably be as unmoving as the girls in the picture.

Laughing as she hurtled back down the flights of stairs to the kitchen, she passed her room and didn't stop as she had decided that retiring to her room while an angry Malfoy was on the prowl was like inviting death to the door. She wasn't going to take a chance as she didn't trust Malfoy to allow her to get away with her tricks and sprinted for the safety of the kitchen where Harry was still sitting. As she approached the open door, she heard another voice in the room and rushed in with a genuinely beaming smile on her face.

"Ginny!" she cried joyfully while there was a flurry of robes and red hair as the youngest Weasley grabbed Hermione in a tight hug. Hermione laughed a real laugh and thought how strange it was to be feeling like they were back at school. After a moment, Ginny pulled back and held Hermione at arm's length, looking at her friend with a wide grin.

"Hermione, it's so good to see you!"

"You too! It's been so long."

"I know. I couldn't get away from Quidditch training any faster and Layton said I could only have two days off so here I am!" Ginny said with a laugh while Hermione felt truly happy for the first time in a year. She hadn't seen Ginny for a more than six months as her younger friend had been abroad to train as a professional Quidditch player. Ginny was looking more beautiful than ever with her long red hair and fair skin. Hermione had to admit that she was somewhat envious of the young Weasley's looks as she herself had never been more than a plain-Jane.

"Well, at least we get to see you," Hermione said with another happy sigh as they both sat down at the table, opposite each other. Harry had watched the encounter with a satisfied smile as he saw Hermione displaying signs of joy that she hadn't expressed for a depressingly long time and now came over to join them, sitting next to Ginny.

"I thought you were tired, Hermione?" Harry asked her, wondering if she had heard Ginny come through the Floo network.

"I was, but I had an…interesting time with Malfoy when I ran into him in Sirius' room," Hermione said, bubbly glow only growing as she remembered her little prank.

"Malfoy?" Ginny asked in surprise. "He's here with you?"

"Yeah, we thought we should have him around because Hermione's nightmares are becoming worse," Harry explained while Ginny nodded, obviously having been filled in on the situation by Harry.

"They're getting worse probably because he's here," Hermione muttered mutinously while Ginny gave her another grin and summoned a glass of water from the sink with her wand.

"What's he doing upstairs?"

"Well, I left him looking at some Muggle girls in bikinis," Hermione said with a giggle while Ginny snorted into her glass, choked on a mouthful of water and then coughed it all out loudly.

"WHAT?"

"Oh, no…" Harry said as it dawned on him. "Not that picture!"

"Yes! That picture!" Hermione said with another chortle. "I never knew Sirius was such a lad!"

"What picture?" Ginny asked, confused by what they were talking about.

"This picture," a cold voice announced, throwing down a fading poster onto the table and immediately killing the elation that had been bouncing around the kitchen. Ginny stared at the picture in front of her but didn't laugh while Harry bit his lip and looked extremely nervous. Hermione looked up at the owner of the voice and came into eye contact with Lucius Malfoy.

He wasn't looking happy.


	4. IV

7\. Handling Fire

There was a terribly uncomfortable silence in the kitchen of Grimmauld place as Lucius confronted the three young people. Ginny was staring at the picture to avoid everyone's eyes while Harry was gripping her hand under the table, glancing uneasily between Malfoy and Hermione, whose rosy face had drained completely of colour.

"Miss Granger, a word now," Lucius said in a deadly voice that left no room for argument. However, it didn't stop Hermione from trying, as she tried to ignore the jabs of fear within her.

"Um… I'd rather not. I want to live another day," she said in a quavering voice while fury swirled in Lucius' eyes.

"Miss Granger!" he barked warningly, making Hermione jump in her seat and hastily rise, her chair scraping along the stone floor. Harry and Ginny shot her worried looks as she walked past Lucius and out into the hallway. Lucius gave her a glare that made her shudder in fear as he abruptly turned and followed her.

"Drawing room, first floor," he snapped while Hermione walked with hurried steps, hating the feeling of him following her, almost chasing her. Despite her fear, her ever-logical mind told her that Lucius must have familiarised himself with the layout of the house as he herded her upstairs and made her want to sprint up the stairs as she really, really loathed the feeling of him walking after her up the stairs. It was like what she used to feel like when she was a child; a monster would snap at her heels as she dashed up the stairs. Now, the monster was replaced by one unhappy-looking Malfoy.

Having overcome the urge to run and hide, Hermione opened the door to the drawing room and hurriedly crossed to the other side, eager to get as far away from the angry wizard as she could. She watched, trembling slightly as Lucius slammed the door shut behind him and whirled around to face her, face taut with restrained fury. Hermione wondered if the little prank had been worth it if he reacted like this.

"Why didn't you tell me Black had a soft spot for you?" he hissed when it was just the two of them. Hermione froze; what was he talking about?

"Wh-what?" she asked, utterly confused by the strange words. Lucius gave her an irritated look as he crossed the room in a few strides and approached her, making Hermione retreat against the wall of the room. She almost leapt in apprehension when Lucius thrust something at her, but realised in relief, that it was just a picture. She nervously took it from him and stared at the black and white photograph in her hands.

She was laughing and talking in the photo and seemed completely oblivious to the camera. She noticed that it had been taken when she might have been twelve or thirteen as she looked quite young. Hermione tried to see if there was anyone else in the picture, but had to concede that it was only of her as it had been shot close-up. The distant scenery in the background told her she had been in Hogsmeade, but she couldn't think who would have taken the photo and why Sirius would have had it.

She looked up at Lucius blankly, not knowing what to say as he regarded her with impatience in his features. He seemed to have calmed down, but still looked annoyed by something, but Hermione couldn't figure out what was racing through his mind.

"This can't have been taken by Sirius," she said softly in a dazed voice while Lucius looked at her briefly. "I mean, why would he have a photo of me?" she continued, completely baffled.

"A question I was hoping might have been answered by you, Miss Granger," Lucius said, tone calm once more. Hermione simply shook her head and gave a shrug while Lucius turned to pace the length of the room.

"Surely this must have meant something to Black if he attached it to his wall with a Permanent Sticking Charm, don't you think?" he said in a more agitated manner than Hermione would have believed the composed man capable of.

"It was on his wall?" she asked in disbelief.

"Indeed. I saw it under that poster you so kindly pointed my attention to," Lucius said, stopping in his tracks to give her a nasty sneer. Hermione recoiled slightly as she grew worried that he might pick up on that matter too and punish her for that. She breathed out in relief when he began to walk around again.

"However, that is not the point," he said firmly as he held his hands behind his back. "We need to know why he was interested enough in you to have a photograph of you."

"How did you get it off?" Hermione asked suddenly, mind on other matters.

"What?" Lucius asked, not following her train of thoughts as he was caught up in his own.

"You said it was stuck with a Permanent Sticking Charm. How did you remove it from the wall?"

"Potter did not ask me to come along because I make a nice addition to the furnishing of this house," Lucius said impatiently as he stopped to gaze at Hermione with a frown creasing his perfect brow. "There are advantages to knowing the Dark Arts, Miss Granger."

"But how did you manage to do that?" Hermione pressed on, astonished by his skills.

"That is not the point we need to discuss, Miss Granger. Please focus!" Lucius said irritably as he came over to reclaim the photo and study it. "It seems that it was a case study of you and you alone, considering that neither Weasley nor Potter are visible in the picture," Lucius said, thinking aloud as he went. "Knowing Black, I have reason to believe that he is connected to this curse of yours."

"Sirius was never a Black!" Hermione exclaimed loudly, both to convince herself that Sirius would never do something so…creepy as to have a photo of her and also to defend him. "He was a Gryffindor through and through and I don't believe he would have had this photograph deliberately for nasty purposes!"

"Once a Black, always a Black," Lucius told her steadily before turning back to examine the picture further.

"But Sirius hated his family! He hated the pureblood prejudice rubbish!" Hermione cried, a note of desperation creeping into her exasperated voice.

"That does not mean to say he was no less a Black," Lucius replied coolly, not even looking at her as he gazed at the tapestry ahead of him in deep thought. "Certain attributes run in the blood and always will."

"That's not true!" Hermione said loudly to interrupt Lucius' meditative pondering. "Sirius was never a Black and he was a good man!" She breathed heavily after the outburst and suppressed a shudder as Lucius turned to look at her, eyes icy as they gazed at her piercingly.

"You do not know enough of the pureblood world to understand the bonds with blood, Miss Granger. I advise you to leave the judgement of Black to me," he replied coldly while Hermione felt despair at the growing suspicion that Sirius had indeed harboured some deep secrets. He didn't seem to have had any partners and his life looked like one lonely road. The fact that he kept a picture of her teenage self was beginning to disturb Hermione, but she desperately didn't want to believe that Sirius was a… was a…

"Miss Granger, I do believe this may be a lead," Lucius said, breaking into her heavy thoughts. Hermione raised her eyes to look at him, feeling her nose tingle as tears started swelling and threatened to break.

"Sirius would have never… never…" she whispered, but was unable to voice the words that she dreaded. Lucius gave her a strange look before striding over to her and grabbing her by the arm and steering her to an armchair by the empty fireplace. He exerted just enough pressure on her to make her sit down and Hermione didn't try to fight him as she concentrated on not losing herself to her emotions.

"I must explain to you, Miss Granger, that Black was not just what you knew him to be," he told her once she was seated. "He was quite a difficult thing as a boy to say the least."

"How would you know?" Hermione gasped out as her first tears began to fall. Her cool, detached mind was feeling annoyed that she was being overwhelmed with sudden emotions but didn't know what to do except to let the tears fall. The past few years had been hell for her with the terrible fear and nightmares, and she had hidden the truth of how much they shook her so that her friends wouldn't worry. But now, everything was flowing out; it was too much to discover horrifying secrets of a figure she had seen only as a kind, brave, noble hero. She simply couldn't deal with the stress that came with the thought that he might have been something more…sinister.

"Let me indulge you with my personal experience of Black," Lucius told her as he leaned against the mantelpiece and gazed at her tears, unfazed. Hermione gave a small nod to tell him she was willing to listen and remained riveted in her seat as he spoke.

"You may or may not know that my wife is a Black."

"I can see," Hermione said, pointing to the name 'Narcissa Black' on the tapestry that covered the wall. Lucius gave a curt nod to confirm it all.

"My wedding had to accommodate members of her family and that included her cousin, one Sirius Black," Lucius told her matter-of-factly while Hermione watched him curiously, her tears drying up on her cheeks.

"I happened to be present when Black displayed some very odd behaviour."

"What did he d-do?" Hermione asked in a whisper, not sure if she wanted to know.

"He declared that he was fed up with the pureblood ways and was going to renounce it all," Lucius said, now completely calm.

"Go Sirius," Hermione breathed with a small smile.

"Unfortunately, he happened to tell that valuable piece of information to Bellatrix, who immediately challenged his words with the only way she was capable of; duelling," Lucius continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted. Hermione looked at him in surprise; it must have been a dampener on the wedding if the guests started fighting like that.

"I must admit, we were all surprised when Black managed to beat Bellatrix by shooting some spells that were suspiciously of the Dark Arts."

"How did you know that?"

"Because I know," Lucius said simply, making it clear that he had no wish to discuss the Dark Arts with her.

"We heard in the morning that he had run away from home that night, and I won't hesitate to say that it intrigued me rather a lot," Lucius admitted as he ran his fingers absent-mindedly over the carved marble decorations of the mantelpiece. "As you know, his younger brother enlisted to the Death Eaters, but I had to wonder why Black himself never joined. He seemed to know more about the Dark Arts than he put on."

"But Sirius never used it against anyone," Hermione said slowly in defence of her and Harry's hero. "He was loyal to Harry's parents and Dumbledore."

"Loyalty to others does not always mean that the soul is bound to serve them," Lucius replied, locking eyes with Hermione, making her wonder if there was another meaning to the words. Was he implying it to himself?

"But I know Sirius would never have been a Dark wizard," Hermione said firmly.

"Unfortunately, we shall never know seeing as he is dead," Lucius said as he glanced away to look at the tapestry again. "But this photograph has reawakened the suspicions on my mind…" he said, voice trailing away as he seemed to be captivated by something on the wall. Hermione followed his gaze and saw that he was probably looking at the black holes on the tapestry that signified those in the family who had had the nerve and the senses to leave behind the world of harsh prejudices.

"Mr Malfoy," Hermione said eventually, causing Lucius to snap to and turn his attention to her. "I'll let you do the thinking," she said wearily as she stood up to go back downstairs. Lucius tilted his head slightly as he observed her curiously, surprised to hear the know-it-all surrendering her position to him. When Hermione made no other comment but proceeded to walk out, he accepted her words without another moment of hesitation and instead, turned his attention back to the photograph.

He was sure there was something dark lurking behind the story of the picture of the girl. Black was just too much like his family, no matter he had denied it, and like he had said: Once a Black, always a Black…

 

Hermione lay on her bed, tears staining her face and the pillow beneath her. She had been crying for a good twenty minutes and she wasn't even sure what for. All she had known was that since the discovery of the photograph, everything was beginning to contort in ways unimaginable. She had always admired Sirius as the champion of her, Ron and Harry. He had always come to their defence and when they were at the Department of Ministry, he had burst in to rescue them, having refused to remain at home. She had taken a liking to his carefree, laid-back manner and although even now she was embarrassed to admit it, she had had a schoolgirl crush on him in her third-year.

He had been remarkably handsome judging by the photographs from his youth and despite the inner scars that Azkaban had left on him, he was still a dashing man. Coupled with his rash fighting spirit, he was quite a striking individual. Hermione thought back with a smile how she had thought of him as some sort of Hercules, always there to save Harry, Ron and her and probably one of the best fighters the Order had. The dreams of having Sirius with them after the war to enjoy truly carefree laughs had ended abruptly in fifth-year when Bellatrix killed him.

Bellatrix… That woman had more blood on her hands than anyone Hermione could think of. She hadn't been the least bit sorry when Mrs Weasley had finished her off and did have to admit that if she had ever wished anyone to die, it was Bellatrix Lestrange.

Once a Black, always a Black.

Hermione wondered if Lucius' words were true. Despite her dislike for him, she had to admit that sometimes, he knew what he was talking about and he wasn't as crazy as she had thought him to be. She, like everyone else, had witnessed the Malfoy reunion after the end of the Final Battle and couldn't help feel that their reformation had been as close to genuine as it was going to get. She had heard of Draco's cooperation with the ministry since his family's fall from grace and knew that he was getting back on the rails. Lucius, however, was a different matter altogether. He was already out of his youth and she knew that habits were hard to change for those who were set in their ways. She was actually quite impressed that he hadn't been downright horrible to her and she wondered if he had really changed.

Can't trust him though.

Hermione was interrupted from her thoughts by soft raps on the door. She sat up, hastily wiping away the glistening trail of tears and cleaning herself up the best she could.

"Hermione?"

It was Ginny's voice and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, as she didn't really want to have to explain to Harry that his godfather may have possibly been a… No, she didn't want to say anything if she wasn't a hundred percent certain. When Ginny knocked again, Hermione straightened her crumpled clothes a bit and took a few deep breaths before answering.

"Come in."

Ginny entered, looking around the room briefly before closing the door and hurrying to her friend with a sympathetic smile. Hermione sighed when Ginny drew her into a hug and patted her comfortingly on the back.

"Are you alright?" Ginny asked quietly, gently pulling away to observe Hermione's tear-stained face.

"Not really," Hermione said truthfully, tired of having to lie.

"I'm not surprised," Ginny said heavily while Hermione looked at her curiously. "With that bastard around, I'd be trying to kill myself."

"Oh," Hermione said, remembering with sudden clarity how Ginny had almost died in her first-year due to the enchanted diary of a teenage Voldemort that Lucius had given her. He himself hadn't known clearly what it was, but that hadn't stopped Ginny from pinning the blame on him and Hermione knew that the younger girl still felt traumatised from the experience.

"I couldn't stay in the same room as him," Ginny stated quietly, hands curled up into fists. "I felt like busting him up real bad."

Hermione said nothing but took hold of one of Ginny's hand to comfort her. She knew the feeling of not wanting to be in the same enclosed space as Lucius, but her reason was different from Ginny's.

"So… Did he try to hurt you or something?" Ginny asked while Hermione was caught off guard by the abrupt question.

"Who?"

"Malfoy."

"Oh, no," Hermione said while Ginny looked surprised. "He's actually been disturbingly polite and he just told me some stuff he had found out," Hermione said, not wanting to say anything about the suspicions on Sirius.

"Oh. I guess that's alright then," Ginny said with a shrug. "Me and Harry were just scared for you 'cause you spent so long upstairs."

"It was fine," Hermione replied reassuringly while Ginny nodded. There was a small silence when neither could think of anything worthwhile to say, so Hermione decided that she was going to go and join the men downstairs to see if anything had happened in investigating so far.

"I'm off downstairs. Are you coming?" she asked as she stood up. Ginny gave a small nod, not wanting to be left alone and followed as Hermione led the way down the flights of stairs.

Upon arrival in the kitchen, Hermione found Lucius and Harry sitting opposite each other at the table and the Daily Prophet lying between them, pages opened. The two wizards didn't look up when she and Ginny entered and continued to talk, so Hermione glided past them and settled herself in one of the armchairs by the fireside. Ginny did the same as she shot some deadly looks at Malfoy.

"Nott was given a life-sentence for several major crimes," Lucius was saying in his thoughtful drawl while Harry was looking at something in the papers. "Travers is getting twenty years as he wasn't such an enthusiast when it came to doing the dirty work."

"So the average is a life sentence," Harry said slowly as he flicked some pages of the newspaper.

"It seems to be so," Lucius said, gazing at the far wall as he immersed himself in thought.

"Well, the only way will be to speak to the minister and hope for the best, Mr Malfoy," Harry said, rising to his feet and summoning his cloak with a wave of his wand. "I think I shall visit Kingsley now so that I can be back in time for dinner."

Lucius gave a small incline of his head as he stood up also and glanced around to acknowledge the presence of the two young women in the room. Harry came over to Ginny and gave her a quick kiss on the head and an encouraging smile to Hermione before leaving. Hermione waited for something to happen, but nothing did, and she was aware that Lucius was still standing, observing some article in the paper with disinterest. Unable to bear the heavy silence that rung with unspoken words, she stood up and went over to the table, halting opposite him.

"Do you have a trial coming up?" she asked tentatively while Lucius' eyes left the paper to gaze at her coldly.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"It must be – um – a difficult time for you," she said, not used to offering words of sympathy to him. Lucius seemed to think the same for he gave her a funny look before turning back to look at the picture in the paper that depicted a courtroom that was trying someone.

"The possibility of going to Azkaban is never a welcome one," he replied in a voice that was quieter than usual while Hermione watched him, feeling sorry for him despite the enmity that ran between them. She had always had a sympathetic and understanding streak within her and it had made her parents comment more than once on the probability that she would make a good teacher.

"You deserve it," a whisper of a voice said from behind them and both Lucius and Hermione raised their heads to look at the paling face of Ginny as she stood up to walk over to them. "You deserve to go to hell for all you're worth."

"Miss Weasley, we never met properly," Lucius said calmly, although Hermione could detect a slight flicker of nervousness in the man's eyes.

"Stop the niceties, Malfoy!" Ginny suddenly snarled, coming beside Hermione to face Lucius. "You're such a disgusting conman! I hope you go to where you belong!"

"I will take your best wishes with me when I go to court on Wednesday," Lucius said serenely, and Hermione had to admire his nerve at ignoring Ginny's anger as her ability to make Ron and Harry cower with her dragon fierceness was quite a sight to see. But then again, Lucius was full-grown adult, not one of the boys and his anger was far more terrifying than anything that walked the earth.

"You bastard, Malfoy!" Ginny yelled at him. "You twisted bastard!"

Hermione watched nervously as a muscle jumped in Lucius' jaw and something dangerous swirled in his eyes. Ginny seemed to not notice the signs of his rising anger but continued to let out the pent-up rage and emotions that she had kept silent for far too many years.

"Do you know what you did to me?" Ginny screamed, looking fearful in her rage, red hair looking positively flame-like. Hermione saw that Lucius was making no response but continued to receive the harsh words with an impassive face.

"You ruined my life! You ruined the life of an innocent girl! How does that make you feel? Do you feel good because you managed to fuck up a little girl's life? Does it make you feel great?" Ginny shrieked, tears of absolute anger and uncontrollable emotions spilling from her deep brown eyes as she stared up at Lucius with a look of deepest hatred. Hermione felt her heart twist as she watched her friend speak of an incident she had never disclosed to any of them. She could feel sympathy bleeding out of her as she watched the younger girl break down into heart-wrenching sobs which she was struggling to control.

"You utter bastard!" Ginny said in a harsh whisper, head bowed as she tried to calm her emotions. She looked up to meet Lucius in the eyes as she said her next words. "You twisted son of a bitch!"

Hermione was fixed to the spot, something holding her in place as she watched the scene, feeling strangely detached from the two people and head in daze. She could see that Ginny's small frame was still shaking from the effort to suppress the emotions that had been sealed up in her heart and the tears were beginning to fall on the paper lying on the table. Lucius was trying to look indifferent like his old self, but Hermione could see the discomfort in his stance as he was far more rigid than his usual languid pose. She wondered what was going through his mind as Ginny was in too much of a state to say anything more. She hoped that he was feeling guilt, for if he wasn't, there wasn't much hope for his redemption.

"Miss Weasley," Lucius began after a long moment of watching her cough and splutter from her own tears. "I do apologise for the inconvenience my actions caused you."

Hermione heard the slow, forced words and was feeling astounded that he was actually apologising. Perhaps he was coming to his senses after all and seeing the true consequences of his action was waking him up from his unfeeling state of mind. She watched in anticipation as Ginny looked up at him with pure venom in her eyes.

"Go to hell, you fucking bastard!" she hissed before drawing back in a violent movement and storming from the room in a cloud of dark hatred.

There was another long silence as Hermione waited for the angry energy rushing around them to cool down and settle while Lucius remained frozen to the spot, eyes staring blankly at the place Ginny had been standing moments ago. Hermione realised that she could move and slowly backed away towards the door, having decided that Ginny should cry on a shoulder rather than hide away all those exploding feelings again.

As she left the room, she couldn't help feeling her heart stir as Lucius continued to stay exactly as he was, eyes unseeing as an unfamiliar expression settled over his face. He had to be feeling something, from the way he seemed to be quite affected by Ginny's words. Hermione prayed that he had truly woken up to the world of truths because he had a lot of confessing to do.

 

8\. Confessions

"Ginny?" Hermione said tentatively as she opened the door to the bedroom Ginny was staying in. She quietly entered and closed the door behind her and leaned against the cool wood to look around. The chair that usually sat at the far desk had been thrown into the corner of the room while several books and smaller objects lay scattered randomly across the wooden floor. Ginny was standing with her back to Hermione by the window, knuckles white as she gripped the windowsill. Hermione softly approached and laid a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"How can he just stand there?" Ginny said in a whisper, continuing to gaze out the window with anguished eyes as Hermione came to stand beside her.

"He's messed up, Ginny," Hermione said as she took hold of Ginny's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She could see the tearstains still glistening down the younger girl's pale cheeks and felt her own eyes prickle with upcoming tears. Her sympathy was strong as this girl was like a sister to her. They had shared a room at both the Burrow and Grimmauld Place and Hermione had become very fond of Ginny.

Seeing her suffer really pained Hermione as if she was the one being hurt and as her own eyes released tears of empathy, she drew Ginny into an understanding embrace and hugged her tightly. Ginny's resolutely set jaw loosened as soon as Hermione touched her and the fierce look in her eyes was replaced by torment as she trembled from another series of shuddering sobs.

"I – I can't – can't…" Ginny choked out between trembling sobs as her small frame shook uncontrollably in Hermione's arms. Hermione felt salty tears roll down her face also as she held Ginny tighter and tried to think of something comforting to say, but what could she say? What words would ever heal the open wound in her friend's heart? How could she tell Ginny that she would get through it all?

"He's – he's s-so indiff-fferent," Ginny gulped as she clutched Hermione like the older girl was her lifeline. "H-he doesn't c-care about any-anything."

"Shhh… Ginny, it will be okay," Hermione murmured as she stroked the silky red hair. "You're too strong for this. Nothing can break you."

Hermione felt Ginny attempting a laugh, but it came out as a cough that got lost in another flurry of tremulous gulps and gasps as she tried to stem the flow of tears. Hermione rubbed her soothingly on the back as Ginny slowly quietened down until she was only heaving deep breaths. Hermione knew that Ginny would survive; she was much stronger emotionally than Hermione and she knew that the vibrant redhead wouldn't give in.

Tears that should have been shed eight years ago were now coming out in slow, steady streams and Hermione had to admire Ginny's ability to hold her ground and not collapse like Hermione was sure she would have done. She remained patiently holding Ginny as the younger girl quietened down and began breathing at a normal pace. She knew that Ginny was feeling the inexpressible pain of suppressed emotions and understood as they stood silently for a long moment as calm slowly settled on them.

Thinking about it, Hermione recalled that Ginny had never told anyone anything about her experience with Tom Riddle, besides the basic details. She wondered what dark secrets Ginny held and suffered from in the long years that had taken her onto the road of womanhood. She knew that they were no longer schoolchildren with other adults to turn to in times of help. They were adults now. She would have to help Ginny to learn to let go of the things that were holding her back.

"Ginny, tell me about him," she said quietly, drawing Ginny away from the window and sitting down with her on the edge of the double bed. "Tell me about Tom."

Ginny took a moment to gather her calm and breathed deeply before looking up at Hermione with large brown eyes while a small, sad smile curled on her lips.

"He was so understanding. I've never met anyone like him since," Ginny said quietly while Hermione continued to hold her hand.

"Tom must have been the best thing I had ever experienced; he was so kind and thoughtful and sympathetic. He knew exactly how I would be feeling and he would know what to say to comfort me when I was upset."

Hermione said nothing, determined not to interrupt as Ginny's eyes gazed at the far wall and had a faraway look. Her voice was slightly distant and she looked distinctly dazed as she recalled her time as an eleven-year-old.

"It was like…he was a part of me. He knew exactly what I was talking about and when I had a crush on Harry, he would give me advice…"

There was a long pause as Ginny continued to look at the wall and Hermione wondered if she was alright. She squeezed her hand slightly and the deep brown eyes turned slowly to gaze at her, the unredeemable look of anguish webbed in the intricate black spikes of the pupil. Hermione gave Ginny a reassuring smile to tell her she was still listening and Ginny inhaled deeply before letting out the heavy breath.

"I… I think I fell in… in love with him…" Ginny said, whispering the last few words while Hermione felt shock hit her. Ginny had fallen in love with a young Lord Voldemort? But then again, Hermione realised that Tom Riddle had been a master of manipulation and he had probably fooled Ginny's young, naïve mind into wanting him. However, the thought continued to bother her and raise surprised cries in her mind as she realised the power of the confession; Ginny had loved Tom Riddle. Hermione rose and gave Ginny another smile to hide her own anxiety at the situation.

"Ginny, you need to get some rest," she told her while Ginny nodded dumbly. Hermione knew from recent experiences that emotionally-charged moments were far more draining than any physical activity. She made sure Ginny was lying down on her bed with closed eyes before leaving the room.

As she walked to the drawing room, she was starting to feel overwhelmed by all the sudden churn of secrets that the day had yielded. It was too much to bear in one go, and she was beginning to feel amazed that she hadn't collapsed in some sort of emotional overdose. Her cool logic told her that being emotional was foolish, but she was feeling immensely weakened ever since her nightmares of the Manor and couldn't help being over-sensitive. She didn't even notice Crookshanks stalk past on his way for a good mousing.

Wishing for some quiet time alone to think everything out methodically, Hermione entered the drawing room to find a surprising scene.

Lucius was standing by a small stand and doing something with his back to her. Hermione heard the unmistakeable clink of glass and entered the room silently, curious but wary of what he was doing. She closed the door behind her and remained where she was, jaw loosening in surprise as Lucius turned around and rapidly downed a shot of dark liquid that looked rather like Firewhisky. He didn't notice her for a moment, but when he did, she could see even from that distance, his eyes narrowing and his lips setting in a thin line.

Lucius said nothing but continued to gaze at her with darkened eyes while Hermione groped around in her mind for something decent to say, but could come up with nothing. He was looking exactly as she had left him half-an-hour ago; stiff and cold, but his eyes betrayed signs of swirling emotions and judging by the fact that he was drinking, Hermione could only guess that he was suffering.

"You ruined her life," Hermione said suddenly in a quiet murmur, a fierce protectiveness prowling over her as she thought of poor, poor Ginny nursing more dark secrets than she was capable of. Hermione wanted to know that Lucius was feeling the guilt he deserved to feel and his pain was coming from seeing the inevitable consequences of his cruel actions.

Lucius ignored her and turned his back on her to refill his little shot glass and tipped his head back again before setting the glass down on the table with more force than necessary. Hermione wondered how many shots he had had and could only guess more than usual as he turned around slowly, movements still elegant and graceful, but lacking his usual calm composure.

"How is she?" he asked in a slightly hoarse voice which made Hermione even more surprised.

"Fine, considering that the diary you gave her sucked her soul from her and tried to kill her," she said in dark sarcasm while bitterness sung through her veins. Lucius simply gave a nod and walked slowly towards the long windows and drew back the velvet curtains of deep green to stare out into the autumn sunshine. Hermione watched him, surprised but satisfied to see that Lucius Malfoy wasn't the man he had been. He was breaking.

"You should go apologise," she told him quietly while he crossed his hands behind his back and continued to gaze at the deserted square outside.

"I have apologised the best I could," Lucius said quietly in a tone most unlike his usual self. The lash of heat flared in Hermione's heart as she felt her anger rise. Ginny was almost dying from her trapped emotions and he was telling her that saying sorry once was enough?

"You're going to have to better than that!" Hermione suddenly shouted at Lucius, causing him to turn towards her slightly to look at her blankly. "She almost died! How can you stand there saying nothing when you ruined her life?"

Hermione felt breathless from her outburst and let her anger cool as Lucius regarded her, an icy glaze creeping over his face. She watched with apprehension as he slowly came towards her, stopping a few feet away to gaze at her with scrutiny.

"Have you ever tried apologising for ruining someone's life, Miss Granger?" he asked quietly, stoic face giving nothing away. Hermione felt stumped; of course she had never tried because she had never done anything to ruin anyone's existence.

"No," she murmured back, fists clenched as she controlled the flaring fire of protectiveness she felt for Ginny.

"I didn't think so," Lucius said quietly as he turned away to serve himself another glass of soothing alcohol. "You see, Miss Granger, I have never tried either," he admitted as he poured himself a dram and swallowed in a quick, refined gulp. Hermione watched him as he slowly recovered from his dazed state and began to pull on his invisible mask of indifference. When he turned to look at her, his eyes were cold and unfeeling and his face spoke of nothing.

"You're ruined so many lives," Hermione said to him in a whisper, amazed by his ability to disconnect himself from his feelings. "How can you live with yourself knowing of the consequences?"

"What would you like me to do, Miss Granger? Take my own life because of it?" Lucius muttered sourly while Hermione felt a fierce determination to make him see the light.

"No!" she said viciously as she marched over to him. "All you have to is accept what you have done and not shy away from the truth!" she said ferociously while standing only a foot away from him. Lucius gave her a piercing gaze as the muscle went in his jaw again and he took a moment before making his reply.

"Truth?" he said quietly.

"Yes!" Hermione said heatedly. "The truth!"

"I have known many truths, Miss Granger," Lucius began slowly, his eyes drifting off to fix on a vague point behind her. "But they all turned out to be false."

Hermione stared up at him, having to tilt her head up to observe the flashes of curious emotions that were streaking through his eyes. She wasn't sure what he was referring to but was gaining an ounce of feathery light hope as she realised that there was a miniscule chink in his iron armour that if she managed to get through to…

"You will never be redeemed if you don't face the truth," she told him quietly, causing his eyes to slowly swivel back to her and lock her in a terrifyingly intense gaze. Hermione felt uncertain; she was looking into the eyes of a murderer; she was looking into the eyes of a torturer; she was looking into the eyes of a man who had disregarded human condition all for his own gain… But she was looking into the eyes of a father and a human being…

"Redemption," Lucius murmured. "A lost hope…"

"No! It's still there!" Hermione said fiercely as she grabbed him by the shoulders to give him a shake. "All you have to do is see the light!"

Lucius continued to gaze at her but seemed to snap awake for his hands came up to remove hers from him and he stepped away a little to ensure more distance between them. Hermione regarded him with angry eyes, too many thoughts and emotions tearing through her mind for her to register them all. All she was aware of was the man standing in front of her, trying to discard the mask of indifference that he had worn for too long.

"I have no wish to see the light," Lucius said at last. "I trust the darkness to save me."

"You can't!" Hermione yelled in hysterical exasperation as she reached forward to grab the lapel of his robes. "You can't go on ignoring what you did! Why can you not see the light?" she shouted at him, unbidden tears bursting from her eyes as her emotions swamped her.

What was she trying to achieve? Make Lucius apologise for his misdeeds? Make him have a change of heart? Save him from eternal damnation?

"I can ignore the light and I will do so if I wish to," Lucius told her coldly, grabbing her wrists in a painful manner and pulling a disgusted sneer. "Stop crying, girl. It's utterly childish," he snapped at her while Hermione paused in her confused emotional state to stare at him in shock.

"How can you tell me what to do? How can you push me away and choose to ignore the consequences of what you did?" she gasped while he continued to look disgusted, but she wasn't sure if he was directing the feeling entirely at her. "You coward," she finished in a whisper, unable to believe that he would choose to hide in the darkness where no-one could see his sins.

"What?" he asked in a low hiss while Hermione bit back the growing fear at his rising rage and steeled herself for what might come.

"I said you were a coward," she whispered again. "Hiding from your own fears."

Hermione drew in a sharp breath as iron fingers wrapped around her throat and Lucius slowly began to tighten his grip, making her heave her chest to breathe and gasp and gutter in panicking breaths. She watched with pounding fear as he continued to squeeze until she felt her vision darkening and her legs fall out from beneath her. She landed on the cold floor with a painful smack and lay there, trembling as visions of the unforgivable night at the Manor sprung up again in her eyes.

"You know not what you speak of," Lucius said in a harsh whisper from above her. Hermione closed her eyes and heard the quiet swish of robes as he knelt down by her head. She felt the cold tip of a wand gently press against her throat and opened her eyes to meet Lucius'.

"I will kill and kill again," he murmured. "If it will keep me from the light."

"So kill me," Hermione whispered, struggling to speak as the wand pressed into her throat. "Kill me like you know you want to. After all, I'm only a Mudblood."

Lucius' eyes widened slightly at the hissed word and he froze, gazing down at Hermione with something strange in his expression. Hermione waited for something to happen, feeling surprisingly calm for the black situation, as if daring to hope that he would finally hear her.

"I learnt to scream because of what Bellatrix did to me," Hermione whispered to him when he did nothing for several long minutes. "I learnt to truly feel pain. I hear and see every moment in that room and cannot sleep because of it. How could you just stand there, watching and doing nothing?"

Hermione watched him closely for signs of life as he seemed to have gone lifeless for a moment. His eyes had glazed over in thought while the pressure from his wand was lessening so that she could breathe again. She didn't understand him and his moods and feared to move in case he might suddenly spring back into motion and truly kill her. She forgot about the Vow that was protecting her from dying at his hands for at the moment, he looked very capable and willing to finish it all.

"How did you not hear me?" she breathed, voice so quiet that only he would have been able to hear, had there been anyone else in the room.

"I did hear you," he suddenly said, eyes moving back to lock with hers as he remained kneeling over her. "And I hear you every moment I spend awake and asleep."

Hermione stilled, not knowing how to react to this confession. He was admitting that something had pierced his iron heart and he was giving in to the light. Finally, giving in…

"I am tormented by the sound of your screams," he said, in a daze as if he could hear it now. Hermione reached up to touch his shoulder, making him jerk to attention and swiftly draw back, rising to his feet. She sat up as he moved, disappointed to see the mask slide over his face again but a little comforted by the fact that he had heard her and seen her and felt something. He was no longer indifferent, despite his pretence.

"I ignore it if only to lessen the pain," he told her quietly before sweeping out of the room and leaving Hermione still sitting on the floor.

She was shaken; whether by his short moment of honesty or by the clarity of his pain, she knew not. But he had confessed, and that was all that mattered for now…

 

Dinner was a tense, awkward affair that was dealt with as fast as possible by the diners. Harry had returned from a successful meeting with Kingsley to find Hermione, Ginny and Lucius sitting extremely stiffly at the table and sitting with large gaps between the girls and the man. Ron had arrived shortly after and had barely said a word all evening as he seemed to be too tired to talk.

Hermione scarcely noticed Harry and Ron's presence as she was only intent on looking after Ginny as her friend sat in a detached state of mind and picked at her food miserably.

"What's wrong, Gin?" Harry asked her worriedly while she didn't look up at him. Hermione noticed Lucius visibly tense in apprehension of Ginny's answer and turned to gaze at him with impartial scrutiny.

"Tired," Ginny mumbled and Lucius relaxed ever so slightly. Harry didn't look convinced, but didn't press the point, knowing that his girlfriend liked to be left alone at times. Ron had barely heard the conversation as he finished his pudding and stood up wearily.

"I'm off to bed. Had a tiring day," he said before leaving the room without even waiting for any of the others to reply. Ginny seemed to take that as permission for her to leave also and left without a word, face still pale and ghost-like while there were slight tear tracks staining her cheeks.

Hermione watched her go with an empty feeling in her heart while she just about noticed Harry sliding along the bench to come and sit with her. Aware that Lucius was still in the kitchen and currently sauntering over to the armchair at the other end of the room, Hermione didn't want to say anything too detailed to Harry.

"What happened when I was gone?" he asked quietly, face holding an anxious expression.

"Nothing," Hermione muttered. "Just a little realisation for Ginny and Malfoy."

"What d'you mean?" Harry pressed on, desperate to know what was going on.

"Just go and talk to her, Harry," Hermione said with a heavy sigh as she turned away from him. "I'm too tired to talk."

"Right," Harry said, restraining the urge to badger her for more and standing up. "Goodnight, then," he said as he gave her a small pat on the shoulder and left the room.

Hermione laid her head on the table, too confused to even try and think. She had spent several hours prior to dinner trying to understand all that had happened in the day, but nothing had become clear as of yet. She was caught up in too many emotions and feelings to be sure of what was real. On the one hand, she was severely protecting Ginny and comforting her as best to her abilities for she knew her friend needed a girl to understand the problems. Ginny hadn't come out of her room until dinnertime and she had looked like she had had a fitful sleep as her eyes were still red and she looked generally ill.

Lucius was a different matter all together, as Hermione had caught glimpses of him after her confrontation to see him trying very hard to cover his tracks and block himself off from the world of feelings by raising his icy wall of apathy. She had also found an empty bottle of Firewhisky on the counter in the kitchen and several smashed glasses that he hadn't got around to mending. She wondered what she was feeling for him, because it wasn't exactly sympathy, but something along the lines of it.

Her mind was getting too weary of thinking and she really needed to rest. It had been too trying on her nerves to withstand so much tension in the house and she was almost glad to get back to her bed, half-forgetting the nightmares that would come once her eyes were closed.

She rose from the table and made for the door, feet dragging slightly across the stone surface as her eyes began flickering closed. She was about to leave when she heard Lucius' voice and froze.

"Goodnight, Miss Granger."

She paused, not knowing what to think or whether she should reply. When he said nothing more, she slowly turned to look at him but couldn't see him as the armchair was turned with the back facing her. Taking a deep breath and realising it could only mean a good sign, she relented.

"Goodnight."


	5. V

9\. Death at the Door

Yellow eyes… Blue lips smiling in a deathly smile… Rolling eyes… A pale, dead face… A flash of red light… Pain. Unending pain. Pain that was going to shake her and rip her apart. Pain that was going to kill her…

Hermione woke with a start, sitting bolt upright and panting for breath as she felt the cold sheets of her bed sticking to her clammy skin. She stared wide-eyed in fear into the dark bedroom, searching for the thing of her dreams, wanting to know if it was real or not.

As her thumping heart slowed down and she saw that no one was there, she slowly leaned back against the wooden headboard and sighed deeply. A clamouring train of thoughts immediately burst into action in her mind as her brain began to wake fully, but she deliberately ignored the roar of confusion swirling inside her and shut down her whirring mind, having decided that she was going to take it one step at a time and figure out everything each in its own time.

Her throat felt dry and raspy, and she could only imagine that she had probably been screaming, although judging by the lack of pounding feet outside her door, no sound must have escaped her mouth and she must have been making her throat raw from straining to make a noise. Her body still felt icy tingles shooting through her and she wondered how a dream could be affecting her so much.

"I don't believe in dreams," she muttered out loud as if that would help end the nightmares and she proceeded to light a small candle in the room with her wand before climbing out of bed and deciding to go down to the kitchen to get a drink.

She opened the door and was glad to see that the gas lamps along the walls of the corridors in the house were all lit, although their misty light didn't cast great illumination. At least it wasn't pitch-black, as that would have really scared her. Knowing about the house's last occupants, she had little wish to know what kind of monsters haunted this place.

She was only in her thin nightgown, but decided she couldn't be bothered fetching a decently thick robe even though the sharp gust of wind nipped at her ankles, causing Goosebumps to form on her skin as the ice bit her. Trying not to shiver too much, Hermione walked down the stairs to the first floor, not feeling anything in particular as her inner being started to fall asleep again.

She felt safe at the knowledge that people who loved and cared for her were sleeping in rooms on this floor as well as upstairs by her own chamber. It had comforting effect on her as she slowly crept past the closed doors, trying not to make too much noise.

It must have been midnight or even later as she passed the silent walls of the house, but there was no clock around to confirm the time. At a second thought, she realised that she didn't care as all she wanted to focus on, was getting a drink and going back to bed.

Descending the next flight of stairs, Hermione noticed how the shadows danced menacingly along the walls and ceiling as the flames in the gas lamps flickered when she passed, and she couldn't suppress the shudder of fear as her overly-active imagination grabbed the images and twisted them into something much worse. Consciously having to calm her rising pulse, she made her way down the last few steps of the stairs, trying not to look at the heads of the dead house-eves spiked along the banisters and reached the bottom to find dread filling her in cold sweeps.

The hallway to the kitchen was in complete darkness and there was something terribly discomforting about it. Hermione searched her person for her wand, but realised that she had left it upstairs on her bedside table and sighed in frustration. She considered trooping back upstairs to fetch it, but reprimanded herself, feeling like a fearful child who was scared of imaginary monsters lurking in the dark.

But they didn't seem so imaginary anymore as Hermione peered into the blackness pooling around her. Her determination to reach the door several metres away was beginning to waver as her mind began putting itself in panic gear and refused to allow her foot to even step onto the floor that was covered by a carpet of darkness.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered out loud as she closed her eyes to steel herself. "I am not scared of the dark," she said in a firm voice before opening her eyes and stepping forwards forcefully.

Immediately, it was like she could feel the drop in temperatures as an unpleasant coldness crept over her bare arms and ankles and grasped her with invisible fingers that were ice-like and wouldn't let go. Hermione began shivering violently as she heard whispers ringing in her ears and something like a shadow pass her, making her jerk to face another wall, looking around fearfully for signs of life besides herself.

The light from the stairs seemed so distant now as she trembled in the darkness, unable to command her frozen body to move, but desperately wanting to run back into the safety of her room. She began whimpering when she saw something moving around in the shadows and fought with herself as a dark shape slithered along the floor and moved around her in a wispy shape.

Yellow eyes! Blue lips smiling in a deathly smile! Rolling eyes! A pale, dead face!

Hermione broke into a run, hearing snarls of the monsters of the deep in her ears as she threw herself full tilt at the closed door that hinted of safety. She was too frightened to glance behind, but she knew what was chasing her. She could feel them.

Red-eyed hounds with no shape or form, yet distinct in her mind were snarling as they darted after her, silvery blue saliva drooling from their rabid mouths as they came closer and closer…

Hermione was still running although she was sure she should have reached the door by now. It was like another bad dream where she would run as fast as her legs would carry her, but she was going nowhere. Not moving at all as the demons of the dark would steadily catch up with her and reach her, snatching at her with cruel claws and yellow-eyed grins of gruesome madness.

The dogs; they were right behind her. She could feel their hot, putrid breath that smelt of a thousand dead bodies on her bare skin while the sound of their overgrown claws scratched at the wooden floors as they hurtled towards her. Her heart was in her mouth again and her lungs were tied in knots as she saw her vision blacken completely, with the exception of hazy pairs of red eyes coming closer as yellow fangs glistened in some imaginary sinister light.

Then she hit the cool wood of the door and without a second thought, threw it opened and slammed it shut behind her and collapsed against it, panting heavily as if she had just sprinted a mile.

With closed eyes, she smiled slightly in satisfaction at the canine whimpers and growls that sounded from the other side as the hounds of darkness found their quarry out of reach. Her blood was still pounding in her ears as her chest throbbed with stitches and her legs felt completely lifeless.

She slowly opened her eyes to find that the kitchen was dimly lit by a few candles in their brackets on the walls, but mainly by the fire in the hearth that still seemed to be alive. Sighing in quiet relief, Hermione slowly rose from the cold floor, her back pushing against the door as her strength slowly returned.

Upon standing, she almost leapt out of her skin as she realised a pale face was looking at her from the armchair.

"Oh my god!" she shrieked in alarm, jumping backwards against the door, her body colliding with it painfully as she tried to back out of the room.

"Is there something wrong, Miss Granger?" Lucius asked calmly, one eyebrow raised as Hermione ignored the crackles of pain shooting down her spine to stare at him.

"I…" Hermione tried to say, but couldn't get the words out of her mouth as she felt shaken. She could have sworn a shadow had passed over Lucius' face when she had looked at him. A shadow of a face that had been grinning at her with blue lips and white eyes…

"Face. Shadow," she choked out while Lucius said nothing, not following her strange thread of thoughts.

"Come into the light," he said after a short pause, gesturing to an empty armchair opposite him. Hermione took a few deep breaths before slowly, slowly inching forwards with hesitant steps while Lucius watched her constantly. She felt a shiver of fear ripple through her before her senses returned and she realised that she wasn't really wearing enough to be sitting with Lucius Malfoy. He seemed to have noticed the same for without a word, he passed her his cloak that was draped on the arm of his chair.

Hermione took the soft black material and wrapped it around her shoulders without a second thought, just wishing to be curled up in a protected cocoon and not venture out and fall prey to the ugly evils of the night. She drew her knees up as she pulled the large cloak around her completely, hiding her white nightgown from view as she rested her chin on her knees and tried to stop shuddering.

She didn't move a muscle when Lucius leaned forwards out of his chair slightly to look at her in the face with a scrutinising expression, but met his cold gaze with her own large orbs.

"What happened?" he asked quietly, a small frown settling on his brow as he gazed at her with detached concern. Hermione tried to gather her thoughts to say something that might make sense, but it was causing her more trouble than she could have ever imagined. Where was her brain when she needed it?

"Dogs," she managed to say at last and looked Lucius in the eye to gouge his reaction. She half-expected him to laugh or sneer at her, but she felt a small swell of comfort when he only continued to look dead serious.

"Dogs?"

"Yes," she said in a whisper, not knowing how to explain the shadows that had passed over her or the creatures that had chased her within an inch of her life.

"I didn't know that Potter kept dogs," Lucius replied without a single tone of sarcasm in his tone, although Hermione knew he was probably dying to say some dry remark.

"He doesn't," she replied, throat feeling sore again. "The darkness does."

Lucius sat up suddenly and leaned back in his chair, eyes still on her as he looked thoughtful. Hermione let herself trust him momentarily as she closed her eyes and hid her face in the cloak, wanting to just get away from it all.

"Just dogs?" she heard Lucius ask and slowly lifted her head up and blinked wearily to give a small nod.

"And shadows."

"Shadows?" he asked in surprise as he slowly left his chair and came over to her, bending down slightly so that his face was at the same level with hers and only inches away. "What did you see?" he murmured to her, eyes sweeping over her face searchingly while Hermione recoiled at having him so close. The firelight sent shadows dancing across his face and she was frightened by what she saw.

"I felt her," she breathed, pulling away from him so that her back was pressed against the chair and she was curled up with her arms tightly wrapped around her drawn up legs.

"Bellatrix?" Lucius asked, noticing her discomfort but doing nothing to ease it. Hermione nodded as he turned his head away slightly to think, giving her a profile view of his head. She studied him in silent fascination as his brow curled in thought.

He had very sharp, refined features and for a man of however old he was, he didn't look that old. She tried to connect his name with his person, but somehow, it wasn't making sense to her right now. This Lucius Malfoy couldn't be the same one that had slipped Ginny the cursed diary. He couldn't be the same one that had headed a spot of Muggle torture at the Quidditch World Cup. He couldn't be the one who had tried to kill them all at the Department of Mysteries. He couldn't be the one that hated her…

"Tell me what you saw," Lucius said abruptly, making Hermione jump in unexpected alarm and shrink back in her chair. If she had felt like a child back by the stairs, she truly felt like an infant now, frightened of everything and anything, but she didn't care. She could see Lucius watching her closely as he turned back to her, his hands gripping the arms of her chair as he leaned over her ever so slightly, giving her a vulnerable feeling against his looming might.

"I – I always see the yellow eyes…" Hermione started, eyes flickering uneasily around the dark corners of the room, checking whether they were there or not. "I hear her in my head…" she continued, avoiding looking at Lucius but peering behind him at the black edges of the room. "I feel her around me."

"Look at me," Lucius suddenly said in a forced whisper, taking hold of her chin in one hand and turning her head to face him. "Do not look behind."

Hermione swallowed and felt bewildered by the strictness in his voice, but didn't feel like questioning him at that moment. She waited in tense silence as his eyes searched her face for a moment longer before he spoke, this time in deliberated, slow, thoughtful tones.

"She is taking over you," he explained, keeping her head in place with his hand. "You are feeling her trying to possess you," he said, never breaking eye contact with her while Hermione stared up at him as the truth in his words dawned on her and awakened a new fear.

"No…" she whimpered, unable to believe the suspicion that had been lingering at the back of her mind since her hazy blackouts.

"These…dreams you are having are her efforts to break into you," Lucius said slowly. "Your sleep is when you are most susceptible to outside forces."

"But this can't be real!" Hermione said in a desperate whisper. "It just… just…can't be."

"Miss Granger, listen to me," Lucius said firmly while Hermione felt him raise her chin up to look at him. Just as she raised her eyes, she caught a flicker of movement behind him in the shadows and stared at the spot, trying to see what it was.

"Miss Granger!" Lucius said to her sharply, bringing her wide eyes hurriedly swivelling back to him.

"She's here!" she said hoarsely, trying to point to behind him, but his hands came down on her cloak-covered arms and gripped her tightly.

"No one is here besides you and me. There is nothing in that darkness but the figments of your own imagination," he told her in a fierce whisper while Hermione yearned to believe him, but somehow couldn't. Something in her was telling her to look into the corner and she couldn't resist…

Yellow eyes… Blue lips smiling in a deathly smile… Rolling eyes… A pale, dead face…

She gave a yelp of fear and jumped in her chair as she saw them all flash before her eyes. Lucius blanched slightly at her sudden movement but quickly covered it up by grabbing Hermione by the shoulders and giving her a small shake.

"You are seeing nothing!" he said to her firmly. "Do not believe in what you see."

"But… but I saw it again… that face… it's always there," Hermione murmured faintly, black edging into the corners of her eyes while she felt herself go light-headed and empty, almost as if someone had opened a door in the back of her mind and everything was just falling out…

"Miss Granger! Focus!" Lucius snapped at her, noticing the dazed look in her eyes. "Close off your mind!"

His voice brought back a cold clarity and she saw the darkness retreat as her sight cleared again and she felt herself in full control of her body.

"She is getting to me," Hermione said quietly in an unfeeling voice, not knowing what else to say. Her insides were strangely numb although her mind was feeling sharp and logical. Lucius gave her a hard look before inhaling sharply and stepping back to give her space.

"You should go back to your own room. It will not help you to stay here where something's obviously bothering you," he said firmly while Hermione looked up at him, horrified.

"I'm not going back out there!" she started to say loudly, but had to finish in a hoarse gasp as her throat stung. "I can't! I'll – I'll die!"

"That is why I am going to come with you," Lucius said with a sigh as he took hold of her arm and pulled her out of the chair. Hermione's jaw dropped in shock while she made no struggle against him. Lucius Malfoy was being serious for once in his life and wasn't kicking her out of the room to the mercy of dark beasts.

Lucius glanced down at the gawping girl and gave her an impatient look which promptly made Hermione clamp her mouth shut.

"You left your wand upstairs, didn't you?" he said to her, already knowing the answer. Hermione gave a numb nod as he led her towards the door, hand still holding onto her arm. Lucius turned before opening the door and gave her another searching look.

"Never leave your wand behind, Miss Granger," he said in a low voice while Hermione heard him through the cloud of confusion in her mind. "It is your only weapon against anything in the world of magic."

Hermione looked up at him sharply; was he advising her? She had always thought that his hate against Muggleborns made him dislike her ability to use a wand, but now he was telling her to never go without it. What was going on in his mind?

"Come along," he said, breaking into her thoughts. "We don't have all night."

"Water," she muttered, pointing at the sink like a child while Lucius wasted no time in summoning a glass of water with his wand. He handed it to her silently and Hermione drank it down thirstily in one go. When she finished, she set the glass down on the table dazedly and slowly licked her lips.

"Done?" he asked.

Hermione gave another stiff nod and made to pull off his cloak to leave behind, but froze when he stopped her movements with his hand on hers.

"Keep it on," he said firmly, causing Hermione to stare at him in even more bewilderment. Not only was he telling her to guard herself with magic; he was ordering her to continue wearing his cloak. A quiet part of her wondered if the Revelation had come so soon and that small section of her mind proceeded to laugh silently, but Hermione was in no mood for laughter. What faced her outside was far too frightening for her to laugh at.

Lucius opened the door and gestured for her to go before him, and Hermione obeyed, not going very far and glancing back to make sure he wasn't going to trick her and leave her alone in the dark. He didn't bother closing the door as it cast a little light down the dark hallway and began to walk, herding Hermione along before him.

Hermione kept her eyes glued on the blackness ahead, waiting for the dreaded sounds she expected to ring in her ears, but nothing happened. The fearful darkness that lapped at her ankles still alluded to something unmentionable lurking just out of sight, but there was no sign of the dogs or the shadow to be seen. She didn't comment when a hand landed on her shoulder and continued to stay there as they walked, but she wondered what was going on with Lucius. Why would he want to keep a hold of me like that?

"Keep walking," he said quietly from just behind her as she began to falter in her steps as she thought hard. Her body obliged and continued to take it step by step, but she could feel the familiar tingle of coldness starting to slither around her feet like snakes and small serpents crawl up her legs, making her shudder and twitch. She barely noticed the hand squeezing her shoulder as she shivered, but distinctly felt a strange wall of protectiveness shimmering around her as she moved.

She glanced up straight ahead of her and caught the flicker of the shadow. As her breath caught in her chest, she came to an abrupt halt, eyes widening in an attempt to make out the shape clearer, but the shadow made no attempt to come closer, but wavered in the corners of darkness, putting Hermione even more on edge.

She looked up in sudden surprise when Lucius put his arm around her shoulders tightly while a frown appeared on his face. He raised his wand and spoke the spell to bring forth light and Hermione watched as the bright glow chased away the shadow into nothingness and her heartbeat slowed down to a normal pace.

Just as she was relaxing slightly, her eyes caught sight of a new horror. A cat; a very dead-looking cat was hanging on the front door by its tail, eyes glassy and unseeing while the bandy legs of the creature stuck out stiffly to the sides. Hermione blinked rapidly several times before the truth hit her.

Crookshanks was nailed to the door by his bottlebrush tail, mouth open as if in a silent hostile hiss and cat-lips pulled back in a snarl.

"NO!" Hermione shrieked, tearing herself out of Lucius' grip to launch herself at her beloved pet. "No… no…"she whimpered as she reached the rigid form and slowly touched the raised hair along the back of her cat. She didn't hear the sound of doors opening from the floor above, but realised that the others had woken when her ears caught the sound of Ron.

"What's going on?" he muttered blearily as he blinked heavily to get the sleep out of his eyes. "Hermione?"

Hermione didn't turn back, but continued to stroke the stiff fur of Crookshanks, tears bursting from her eyes as she realised that her wonderful pet and friend wasn't ever going to come back. With blurry eyes, she took hold of the cat's face in both hands and gazed at the glassy green eyes with anguish twisting her heart.

This creature had been her only companion during many days of holidays when she hadn't been able to use magic. It was thanks to his cleverness that she, Harry and Ron had discovered Sirius in time to distinguish that he was not a murderer. She had so many memories of the cat that flashed before her eyes and made her smile sadly while her chest heaved with sobs.

Harry and Ginny were standing with Ron at the top of the stairs, frozen in shock. They could see Lucius standing not far from Hermione, but Harry had no reason to think that the wizard would have done something so horrible as to nail a cat to the door. Ginny, despite her recent exchange with Lucius, still didn't think that he was the culprit either.

Both she and Harry looked at the stiff, dead form of the cat in rigor mortis and scenes from the year the Chamber of Secrets was opened drifted before their eyes. Filch's cat, Mrs Norris had been found in exactly that position, but with painted words that Ginny, herself had wrote while being possessed by Tom Riddle.

"Oh, no," Ron murmured faintly before breaking the tense silence by dashing down the stairs and hurrying to Hermione to wrap his arms around her. This only made her cry harder as she turned away from the cat and buried her face in his chest, hands clutching his pyjama top in a death grip.

"Hermione…shhh…" he said soothingly as he knelt with her on the floor, stroking her unruly mane of hair and cooing small nothings in her ear to calm her. Harry and Ginny seemed to be freed from their shock and came down the stairs also, Harry waving his wand to light more gas lamps further along the walls. They passed Lucius, who was standing stockstill, without a second glance and all went over to Hermione to crouch down by her and support her in her distress.

"Why is this happening to me!" Hermione suddenly shrieked in frustration, pulling away from Ron and smacking her fist angrily into the wall next to her. "What's going on?"

"Hermione, it's okay," Harry said, laying a hand on her shoulder as she broke down in more sobs. "It could have happened to any of us. It's just because of what Bellatrix –"

"DON'T SAY THAT NAME!" Hermione cut in with a hysterical yell, making all her three friends flinch in surprise. "That horrid…horrid…beast!" she screamed, pounding the wall with her fists while Ron and Harry tried to restrain her. Ginny hung around behind them, a worried frown on her face as she watched Hermione go into an unusual state of hysteria.

The small circle of friends around her broke away when the tall frame of Lucius loomed over them and without a word, hurriedly grabbed Hermione by the arm and wrenched her away from the wall, unfazed by her flailing arms. He swung her around roughly to face him and grabbed hold of her chin to raise her maddened eyes to his.

"Miss Granger, are you listening?" he asked in a forced tone. Hermione simply stared at him, mind blank while he gave her an impatient look. "Miss Granger?"

"Malfoy, don't be so rough!" Ron cut in angrily as he reached out to place a protective arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Can't you see she's not in the state to listen to you?"

"Quiet, Weasley!" Lucius barked as he pulled Hermione out of Ron's reach, much to the surprise of Harry, Ginny and Ron. "Miss Granger!" he repeated again, giving Hermione a small shake. "Close off your mind!"

"I – I can't…" Hermione said faintly, body going suddenly limp and falling to the floor. Lucius had to grab her in an awkward sort of embrace to stop her from hitting the floor and gasped quietly in surprise at the straining movement. Ron, who had held back, couldn't bear it any longer and hurried over to take hold of Hermione and gently sit her on the floor, propping her back against the wall. Lucius seemed only too grateful to let her go and straightened up to gather his calm and catch his breath.

"What happened?" Harry asked him quietly while Lucius continued to eye Hermione with a frown.

"She came down for a drink and said she had been seeing things," Lucius said slowly while they watched Ron try and comfort a dazed Hermione.

"Is she…possessed?" Harry asked tentatively, desperately hoping for denial. Lucius turned his head slowly to look at the boy who he had tried to kill on more than one occasion and had to admit that he admired the nerve of Harry Potter to sign up an ex-Death Eater and put trust in him. Lucius wondered for a split second why Harry was putting his trust in him when Lucius was quite capable of killing him now, but he took in the serious look of deep concern for his friend and decided that there was too much compassion in those green eyes. He couldn't let them down now, even if he wanted to.

"Not fully, but it may happen if she doesn't learn to control her emotions," Lucius said while both Harry and Ginny listened. Lucius turned to look at the red-haired young man hugging Hermione and eyes widened as he noticed her large brown eyes looking hollow and empty. Without a warning, he stooped over Hermione and roughly pushed Ron out of the way as he grabbed Hermione by the arms and brought her up to her feet.

"Miss Granger! Do not let her in!" he said while they all watched Hermione apprehensively. Her rosy face was deathly pale while her eyes weren't moving. Lucius gave her another shake as he gripped her hand and squeezed it. "Miss Granger!"

"Draco…?" she asked weakly as a small frown creased her brow. Lucius briefly noted the looks the three younger people exchanged, but ignored them as he knew what Hermione was thinking.

"You are not at the Manor," Lucius told her firmly. "You are at Grimmauld Place and Draco is not here."

"Lucius?" Hermione asked faintly. Lucius hid his blanch, unused to hearing his name spoken by her, but decided that he would deal with that later.

"Yes."

"Where is she?"

"She is not here," Lucius said, knowing her to speak of Bellatrix.

"I – I can't see anything… It's dark in here…" Hermione said in a fading whisper.

"Miss Granger, you need to keep thinking. Think of something that amuses you. Something that makes you laugh," Lucius told her, still holding her up against the wall while Hermione slowly blinked. Everyone else watched tensely as a small, sad smile broke on Hermione's face and her eyes moved slightly.

"Draco the Amazing Bouncing Ferret," she said in a quivering voice as she shook a little with quiet laughter.

Harry and Ron gave each other puzzled looks before giving small, hesitant laughs while Ginny couldn't help smiling. That memory of Mad Eye Moody transforming Draco into a white ferret tickled all their ribs, even if they recalled that Moody hadn't actually been Moody but Barty Crouch junior. Lucius frowned at the suddenly laughing younger generation. Obviously, Draco hadn't gone to the liberty of mentioning that particular little gimmick to him.

"Honestly, Miss Granger," he said in mild exasperation. "Twenty years and that's the funniest thing in your life?" he asked in disdain, although inside, he was secretly relieved that she had come back to life.

"You should have seen him, Mr Malfoy," Hermione said with a small smile. "He would have made you proud."

Harry, Ron and Ginny started laughing openly while Lucius felt Hermione sag with relief as she leaned against the wall on her own, closing her eyes to smile. Lucius shook his head at the strange turn of events and came to his senses, realising that it was still the early hours of the morning.

"I suggest all of you go back to bed," he said curtly, causing them to stop their guffawing but continue to grin idiotically. Honestly, if his son as a ferret really made them look like that, he was half-regretting missing the event.

"I can't sleep," Hermione murmured, still wearing his cloak.

"You should still go to bed, Miss Granger. It has been a long day," he said firmly while he noticed Hermione's expression of silent debate whether to question his order or not.

"Will you be alright, Hermione?" Ginny asked her, eyes speaking of her offer to come and share the room with Hermione if she needed company.

"Fine," Hermione said with a smile, wanting to remain strong. She made for the stairs, everyone following behind her and Lucius' hand still holding her elbow lightly. There was a chorus of 'goodnight' as they all separated to return to their rooms and Hermione and Lucius came to pause outside the door to her room.

"Um…thank you, Mr Malfoy," she said uncertainly, unable to believe that she was thanking him for something. Lucius gave a small incline of his head to accept her gratitude and remained where he was, standing tall and straight. Hermione gave him a nervous glance, not sure if she should say anything else, and decided to open the door. She stepped forwards into the darkness and fumbled around for her wand to light the candle that had gone out.

As she headed for the bed, she realised she was still wearing his cloak and shrugged it off her shoulders, the warmth it had provided disappearing to be replaced by the coldness in the high-ceiling room. She came over to the door where Lucius was still standing, watching her, and handed the cloak back to him.

"Erm…thanks for the cloak," she said, stalling for time as an unbidden request had popped up in her mind. As if he could read it in her eyes, Lucius voiced the question.

"Would you like me to stay until you fall asleep?"

Hermione nodded slowly, surprised that he would think of it as she had thought he would hex her if she had asked. It felt slightly uncomfortable to know that the man who had wanted to kill her in the past was going to watch over her until she slept, but she brushed the thought aside, knowing that tonight had changed it all. A week ago, she would have rather jumped out the window than have Lucius in the same room as her at night, but tonight, when she had seen the shadows in the dark, his presence had somehow made her feel that little bit safer.

As she climbed into bed, she knew she had no need to worry as the Vow protected her life and Lucius was far too controlled to attempt anything. She lay back in bed with a sigh as she felt weariness hit her and closed her eyes to fall asleep immediately, forgetting all the horrors of the night.

Lucius drew a chair up next to bed and sat down, watching her relaxed face as she breathed lightly. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, but he calmly detached himself from the world of thought to do the one thing that was his current task; watch the girl.  
10\. Flying Under One Flag

The bright beams of the autumn sun peeped through the gap in between the curtains, shining on Hermione's face and causing her to wake with a grimace at the brightness. She rolled over in her bed so that she was no longer in the sun and blinked slowly as she gazed around.

The room was telling her nothing of the events the night before, but she was sure she hadn't dreamt it. Her voyage to the kitchen had been an odyssey; something she remembered like some great epic in her memory. She distinctly remembered the dogs that she had been convinced were going to devour her. Then there had been the usual myriad of ghostly visions that always haunted her at night. Then Lucius had talked to her for a while…

Lucius? 

Hermione sat up in bed to look around the room and saw the empty chair at her bedside. She frowned as she wondered whether he had been there at all, considering he left no traces behind whatsoever. She climbed out of bed to investigate for visible signs of him having been there to prove her confused mind, but didn't see anything. No cloak. No mark on the cushion of the chair to tell of a sitter.

But then she caught it; a whiff of a scent that confirmed her suspicions. She paused where she was, sniffing as she picked up the lingering fragrance of what she assumed was his cologne as it smelt nice and refreshing.

Malfoy's cologne smells nice and refreshing? What the hell?

She shook her head to be rid of more absurd thoughts and wandered over to the chest of drawers in a corner of the room which she had filled with her clothes. As she pulled out a simple outfit of blouse and jeans, her mind wandered back to the night before.

Crookshanks!

Hermione suddenly let go of the clothes in her hand and sat down heavily on the floor, tears prickling her eyes while her nose tingled sharply. She rocked herself back and forth as she mourned for the loss of her dear pet and friend. She was never going to hear his reverberating purr again or stroke his plush fur. She would never feel his comforting presence on her bed when she slept. She would never see him play in the garden, chasing butterflies…

She knew that the others would probably think she was overdoing it, crying her eyes out for an animal, but to her, Crookshanks had meant more than just a speechless pet. He had been there to sit in her lap when she had suffered bouts of depression with her and Ron's friendship. He had been there to listen to her blubber when she had felt left out by the boys…

It took her another ten minutes to calm herself down until she was only sniffing, and she managed to get dressed without any more mishaps. She drew back the curtains to let in the warmth of the sunshine and smiled as she saw a very normal day outside. She was feeling calmer as the trees opposite her in the enclose square were swaying lightly in the breeze and the world seemed to be perfect.

But it wasn't; Hermione knew that. The sweet sun could never bring back Crookshanks, nor could it keep her fear at bay when it disappeared over the edge of the horizon. It was frustrating to be nice and normal Hermione at daytime, and then suddenly become panicking, neurotic Hermione as soon as darkness fell.

"Like bloody Jekyll and Hyde," Hermione muttered out loud with a small smile as she brushed back her frizzy hair and tied it back the best she could with the navy hair tie.

The beaming sun had given her strength and her usual Gryffindor persona, and she was determined to no longer mope about what was gone, but instead, honour her dear Crookshanks by punishing the one who had taken away his beautiful life.

The one who had done it… Who had done it?

Hermione paused as she hit the new obstacle she had yet to leap over. Why would anyone kill Crookshanks? Ron, Ginny and Harry wouldn't even dare to think about it… Malfoy… Well, I doubt he would bother nailing him to the door even if he wanted to scare me. I don't think he's that childish.

Hermione felt stumped; she had a lurking feeling about it having to do with her struggles against darkness and Bellatrix, but surely the wandering shadows couldn't have killed her cat? It was so puzzling and before she knew it, Hermione was making her way to the kitchen, determined to get some answers out of anyone who might know, namely Malfoy.

As she trooped down the stairs, she recalled his strange behaviour when she had been scared. He had firstly, offered her his cloak, then stopped her from removing it. She remembered the warm weight of his hand on her shoulder as they walked down the same hallway that she was on now, and how he had even gone completely out of his mind and put his arm around her shoulders, albeit in a non-personal way, but still… It was confusing because she thought that if Draco had qualms about touching her, a Mublood, in school, then Lucius should have freaked out by now and tried to kill her or something.

Hermione paused in her ponderings to turn back and look at the front door where her cat had been last night. Someone (she presumed Harry) had removed the body and all that was left was a small smudge of something dark that Hermione hesitantly guessed might have been blood.

Biting her lower lip and swallowing back another wave of tears that were threatening to break, she quickly turned on her heel and made for the open door of the kitchen, passing the silent portrait of Mrs Black on her way.

Silent Mrs Black?

Hermione stopped again as the thought struck her. The portrait had made no noise last night when it was usually triggered by the smallest of scufflings. Hermione knew that something must have been very wrong last night if the portrait of the mad woman was anything to go by. Screaming and ranting would have indicated normality in the house's tone, but it had been silent.

Feeling disturbed and bewildered, she finally made it to the kitchen and sat herself down at the table with a small nod to Harry who was sitting in his work robes, eating some toast. He gave her a small, reassuring smile as she sat down opposite him and reached out to butter some toast on a spare plate.

"You feeling okay?" he asked her with concern while she gave another small nod.

"Where is everybody?" Hermione asked, curious to know why the house felt so empty.

"Ron's at work, Ginny's in bed and Mr Malfoy went home to see his family."

"Oh…" Hermione said, surprised at the last one. Malfoy? Going to see his family? Probably gone to ask Draco about the ferret incident, Hermione thought with a small smile while Harry watched the new expression with curiosity.

"Something funny?" he asked while Hermione shook her head, but unable to get rid of the growing grin.

"I just thought Draco's got some explanation to do. The amazing bouncing ferret," she said with a faint laugh as she bit into her toast. Harry gave a snort of amusement before turning his attention to a folded Daily Prophet beside him. Unfolding it, he began to read the front page and Hermione watched him, unable to see the details of the article, but the picture and bold heading told her well enough.

'The Malfoy Trial'

"Is it tomorrow?" she asked Harry as he gave an absent-minded nod. Hermione leant on her elbows as she ate, wondering what Lucius was feeling about the trial. It couldn't be a happy event for him as there was still a chance of his being sentenced to Azkaban for life and that would be bad…on him as well as Hermione.

She had to admit that last night, she had felt something different about him. He hadn't been the usual sneering pureblood aristocrat when she had told him her fears at night. He had been actually quite good about it, which was almost as alarming as Mrs Black's silence. Hermione mused whether he too turned into someone different under the cover of darkness, like herself.

She suspected so, for last night, he had proved himself to be quite the protector, even if he was probably doing it to save his own hide from the Vow Harry had made him take. She couldn't help but remember the warmth of his hand on her shoulder as she had faced the dark. It had given her unspoken reassurance; she was no longer alone.

"Well, I need to get to work," Harry said, rising from the bench and brushing off the crumbs from his robes. "I think you better stay at home, Hermione. You need to rest."

"I suppose," she said, dismissing her usual urge of being desperate for work as she really was feeling like she needed a break. Too much had happened in such a short space of time and just thinking about going to work to be with the constant noise of other people made her head reel.

"You'll be able to go back when you're ready," Harry told her, knowing that she was probably torn between work and rest, but he wasn't going to let her come, even if she fought him. "Why don't you go see Ginny? She was kind of upset from last night. I think…um…Crookshanks reminded her of Mrs Norris," Harry said, becoming a little nervous at mentioning Hermione's deceased pet, but Hermione gave him a warm smile, knowing that she needed to stay strong.

"Yes. I think I'll go do that," she said, getting up also and following Harry down the hallway to go back upstairs. Just as she began to climb the first few steps, she heard Harry call her from the door and turned to look at him.

"I'm sorry about…you know…Crookshanks," Harry said, hands fiddling slightly with the front of his robes. Hermione smiled, feeling only sisterly love for him at how he was trying to overcome his awkwardness so that he could voice his thoughts and feelings.

"That's alright," she said, giving him an understanding smile as he fidgeted. "See you later."

"Yeah. Be back for dinner."

Hermione made her way to the first floor as she heard the front door close behind her and heaved a forlorn sigh as she located Ginny's room at the far end of the first floor landing. She knocked tentatively, not sure if the other girl was awake, but heard some shuffling of what sounded like bed covers as Ginny called out for her to come in. Hermione opened the door and entered, closing it behind her and walking over to the bed with a warm smile.

Ginny was sitting up against the headboard, still in her emerald nightie while the curtains had been drawn back to let the light in. Hermione felt deep concern as there were telltale red rings around the other girl's eyes and when she sat down on the edge of the bed, she reached for Ginny's hand.

"How are you feeling?" she asked with worry while Ginny tried to give her a smile.

"Fine."

"No, really, Ginny," Hermione said with an expression that reminded herself of Professor McGonagall when she was being serious. "I know you're not alright. You look like you've been crying."

"I have," Ginny said abruptly, drawing her knees up to her chest as she pulled the dark green covers over her to keep her warm. "I've been thinking about it all night."

"About what?" Hermione asked, not quite sure where Ginny's mind lay.

"Tom and the diary."

"Oh…" Hermione replied, not knowing what else to say. She sat in silence as Ginny took a few deep breaths and began fidgeting with her fingers, pulling gently at the bedcovers as she bit her lower lip in hesitant thought.

"I – I think it's beginning to go…"

"Oh, Ginny!" Hermione said with a small smile, drawing the younger girl into a hug. "I'm so glad…"

"I think letting it all out yesterday really helped," Ginny mumbled, her words muffled as she pressed her face into Hermione's shoulder.

"It's time it left you," Hermione murmured while Ginny released her and gave a nod, a few last droplets of tears creeping down her freckled cheeks. Hermione gave her another warming smile as she continued to hold her hand.

"I feel kind of bad," Ginny said, wiping away the tears and inhaling deeply.

"Why?"

"I said some nasty things to Malfoy," Ginny said with a rueful grin. "I don't think he was too happy at the names I called him."

"Don't worry, Ginny," Hermione said soothingly. "Apparently I called him some bad stuff too."

"You did?" Ginny asked in surprise, knowing that Hermione wasn't the type to swear. Hermione gave a confirming nod while Ginny still looked like she didn't believe her.

"What did you call him? Banana-head?"

"No, silly!" Hermione said with a laugh while Ginny broke into a giggle and the two girls enjoyed the moment of amusement in a beat of delightful sun.

"Daddy Ferret?" Ginny suggested with another guffaw while Hermione buried herself in a spare roll of the bed sheets and laughed into them. When they had both calmed down enough to talk, Ginny's face suddenly turned serious.

"How come you were wearing his cloak last night?" Ginny asked with a frown. "I mean, I don't want to hurt you, Hermione, but isn't he a bit against Muggleborns?"

"Hmm…" Hermione said thoughtfully. "I thought so too, but he was actually quite helpful."

"So he didn't blackmail you into wearing his cloak?" Ginny asked, another smile curling onto her lips.

"Of course not!" Hermione said with a laugh. "Why would you think that?"

"Maybe he's trying to redeem himself by acting the knight in shining armour," Ginny suggested with a light shrug while Hermione continued to giggle.

"Or he probably just needed a cloak hanger," Hermione said with a snort while Ginny laughed heartily.

"Well, he got a pretty one, in that case," Ginny said with an outrageous wink while Hermione pretended to be scandalised.

"Ginny!" she said with a playful slap on Ginny's arm that was more like a gentle brush. "Really!"

"He probably needs something younger to look at than his wife!" Ginny chortled while Hermione began blushing at the thought. She had never thought of Malfoy in that way before.

"Honestly, that's just silly!" Hermione said, trying to get rid of the flush on her cheeks. Ginny simply continued to giggle good-naturedly.

"Not when he still looks alright for a forty-something year old," Ginny teased while Hermione stuffed her face under the duvet to hide the bright glow of her face. Ginny's teasing was making her even more embarrassed than she had ever imagined, bringing her thoughts back to that morning when she had smelt his cologne in the air.

"Shut up, Ginny!" she pretended to growl as the redhead seemed unable to stop laughing.

"Sorry, Hermione," Ginny gasped between gulping chuckles. "It's just so ridiculously funny to imagine it!"

"What's so funny about it?" Hermione asked huffily while Ginny managed to calm down enough to speak.

"Can you imagine him doing anything normal?"

"Like what?" Hermione asked, not knowing what 'normal' might encompass.

"Like, I don't know… singing in the shower?"

Hermione froze for a moment before bursting out in the heartiest laugh she had done that morning. Ginny joined her as she clutched her sides and struggled to breathe from the amount of silent laughter coming out of her. The mirth only began to wane when Hermione lost her balance and fell to the floor, moaning slightly in pain, but laughing too hard to register it properly.

"Oh, Merlin!" she panted, completely out of breath as she picked herself off the floor and stood up shakily. Ginny climbed out of bed as she had woken up enough to get dressed. Hermione gave a few more chuckles as she left the room to give Ginny some privacy. She continued to chortle as she went to the drawing room at the other side of the landing and flopped onto the couch before the empty fireplace.

A few minutes later, Ginny joined her and they sat in content silence for a while as they both wallowed in their small spurts of joy. Hermione's mind began thinking back to the upcoming trial of Lucius and a question popped into her head.

"Ginny, do your parents know that Mr Malfoy is here with us?"

"Yeah, Harry had to tell them because they're going to his trial and we don't want mum and dad to start throwing stuff at Malfoy so…"

"Why?"

"'Cause you need him, Hermione. He's the only one who knows enough of the Dark Arts and isn't already in Azkaban."

"I suppose…" Hermione said grumpily, not liking the fact that she was dependant on anyone, although she knew she actually needed Lucius when night came.

"And Harry also told your parents," Ginny said while Hermione sat upright and widened her eyes.

"Oh my god! I can't believe that I never told them properly!" Hermione cried in distress while Ginny reached over to grasp her hand and make her calm down. "I only wrote them a note when I left the flat!"

"It's alright, Hermione. Harry went over there a few nights ago and explained everything to them."

"Thank Merlin for that," Hermione said gratefully, making a mental note to thank Harry profusely when he returned.

"I'm going to go eat breakfast. D'you want to come?" Ginny asked, standing up and waiting for Hermione.

"Sure. I could do with another breakfast."

 

Hermione and Ginny were enjoying another rare burst of mirth in the kitchen over their finished breakfast when the door opened and Lucius walked in with regal strides. Ginny paused mid-joke and turned to stare at the newcomer while Hermione, who was sitting opposite her, glanced up at Lucius, feeling the numerous questions from earlier that morning return.

Lucius obviously hadn't expected to encounter anyone as he paused for a second to smooth over his initial surprise with a blank expression. Hermione wondered if he did that simply out of habit or if he was still afraid of showing his feelings. Either way, it bothered Hermione immensely as she felt that he was ignoring his vital emotions and not recognising his strong traces of human spirit.

"Miss Granger. Miss Weasley," he said formally in greeting, shooting a wary look at Ginny before making his way past them towards the armchairs at the other end of the room. To Hermione's surprise and worry, Ginny suddenly stood up with a scrape of the bench, making Lucius pause to glance at her.

No one said a word as Ginny walked with deliberate steps around the long length of the table so that she came face to face with the blond wizard. Hermione watched them nervously from behind Lucius, still seated. Lucius didn't seem to know what he should anticipate as he stood stock still, watching Ginny expectantly for some sign of another anguished outburst.

Ginny was wearing a very determined look on her face that could have been mistaken for traces of anger, but Hermione didn't think that it was, somehow. She watched tensely as the red-haired girl stopped a few feet away from the taller frame of Malfoy and faced him with a proud demeanour, fists clenched at her sides. After chewing her lip slightly in silent debate, Ginny suddenly offered a hand jerkily to Lucius while he twitched ever so slightly at the move, having been expecting something more hostile.

"Mr Malfoy, I would like to apologise for the names I called you yesterday," Ginny ground out, obviously not liking having to apologise to anyone, especially an ex-Death Eater.

Both Hermione and Lucius were completely taken aback and everyone remained frozen as Lucius stared at Ginny in the eyes with an unidentifiable expression. Ginny continued to hold her hand out to him in a gesture of a truce and Hermione found herself fervently hoping he would take it, as it would lessen the tension that was tearing at them all.

Slowly, slowly, Lucius extended a still-gloved hand and gently took hold of Ginny's proffered hand and gave it a light shake. It was done in complete silence that both parties seemed reluctant to break. Ginny stepped back when Lucius released her hand and gave a small nod of approval.

"I don't think I will be able to forgive you, but I want to give it my best shot," Ginny said stiffly, body language showing that she was still highly uncomfortable with what she was saying, but Hermione had to admire her for the courage she was showing. She hoped Lucius might take it as a good example.

Lucius gave a small incline of his head, face not showing anything, but Hermione guessed him to be feeling relieved. She felt like jumping up with joy as this was a precious moment. Two enemies were laying down their arms to unite under the flag of truce; it was beautiful in its own way.

Ginny decided she had had enough of apologising and made for the door, returning Hermione's beaming smile with a small grin of her own. Suddenly, the tension in the room had melted away and there was only a respectful silence as she and Lucius were left on their own.

Turning to the wizard, Hermione saw him still standing in the same spot, frowning in thought. She looked at his expensive-looking black cloak and black leather gloves and decided he must have just returned. However, she noticed the missing detail to his character; the serpent-handled cane was nowhere to be seen. Hermione presumed he must have left it by the door and turned her attention back to the cloak. She had worn it last night. How incredibly strange…

Hermione watched Lucius pull off his gloves with deliberated movements as he kept his back to her, almost as if to ignore her. She continued to gaze at him as he elegantly shrugged off his cloak and placed it carefully over his arm as he walked over to an empty armchair and proceeded to sit down. Hermione was left in intrigued wonderment as she noted that every movement he made, even the smallest flick of his wrist, was full of refined grace and total control. She wondered how someone so poised could ever be so downright…evil.

As she caught a glimpse of a pale, long-fingered hand, she couldn't believe how its natural perfection could remain so untainted and undamaged after all the pain and suffering it had caused. How did the devil himself maintain such a perfect face when his heart was as black as a rotten core? Why was it that he still walked the earth when he was the one who should have died, not the beloved Order members?

Hermione's mind was always full of questions, almost to bursting point, and she could feel the doubts picking at her. Lucius Malfoy was apparently reformed, but where was the proof? He himself didn't like to admit it and kept up his flawless façade of unfeeling indifference. Cold hate. Icy apathy.

She wondered if he was ignoring her because of the previous night. He probably didn't like the idea of having had his arm around her shoulders protectively as well as offering to sit beside her she slept. It simply wasn't Lucius Malfoy behaviour and he knew it.

Hermione came to the conclusion that he must be, like her, two different characters in one body. During the day, he was his usual disinterested self, full of sneers and cold remarks, but when night came, he was completely different. Judging by yesterday, Hermione guessed that he took life much more seriously when the darkness hit him. She certainly did.

Finally, unable to bear the millions of questions struggling to burst out of her, she decided to confront Lucius, seeing as he was unwilling to come and speak to her. With deliberate steps, she went over to the end of the room and sat herself down in a neighbouring armchair, causing Lucius to glance up briefly from the photograph found in Sirius' room before turning his attention back to it.

"Do you think it's him?" she asked quietly, still somewhat afraid to talk to the wizard on her own, as it usually ended up in some sort of minor disaster. Fortunately, the daylight didn't make him look half as intimidating as night did, and Hermione took courage from the fact that he had actually protected her the night before.

"I think many things," Lucius said slowly after a pause. He wasn't looking at her, but kept his eyes firmly glued on the photograph. Hermione wondered if he was avoiding looking at her so that he wasn't reminded of the good in him. It was a strange thought.

"Are you afraid of yourself?" she asked suddenly, making Lucius look up swiftly and meet her in the eyes with a cold look.

"Why would I be afraid of myself, Miss Granger?" he asked in icy tones that made Hermione think twice about what she was going to say.

"Because you're refusing to acknowledge the good in you by ignoring me."

"I always ignore children," he replied curtly while Hermione scowled. She was trying to be affable and he goes and calls her a child!

"I am not a child!" she said indignantly while Lucius looked up at her with a mild look of surprise.

"Oh really? I was under the impression that you were still at school."

"I'm the same age as Draco!" Hermione said in exasperation, feeling irritation grate at her nerves.

"I hardly think so. He has become far too old for his own good," Lucius said darkly while Hermione frowned at his words.

"He's only nineteen, right?"

"He bears the burdens of someone far older," Lucius replied, gazing into the empty fireplace with a strange expression.

"Well, I'm only twenty," Hermione replied huffily while Lucius snapped out of his pondering trance to sneer at her.

"Good lord. When did you grow up?"

"It's not my fault that I was thrown into the war when I was fifteen! I had no proper childhood, thanks to Voldemort!" Hermione exclaimed loudly. She had been feeling like she was stuck back in fifth-year for several years now. It was like she had stopped growing when Voldemort had truly begun affecting their lives and she, Ginny, Ron and Harry were still trying to learn to let the past go.

"That is no plausible excuse. Why is it that my son has come out of the war behaving like a veteran, and you and your friends are stuck back in childish adolescence?" Lucius asked offhandedly.

"Because he fought on the wrong side!" Hermione cried loudly, tickling prickles shooting to the bridge of her nose as tears welled up in her eyes. She had been crying far too much of late, but at this point, she really didn't care. "But it doesn't matter because we've all been ruined by the war! You don't know what it feels like to have to fight before you're ready to face the rest of the world! You don't know what it's like to fight him!"

"Might I remind you that I have survived two wars?" Lucius said coolly, completely unaffected by the torrent of anguished tears streaming down Hermione's face as she felt devastated. Someone in her state needed a little sympathy, if not at least some understanding. But trust Lucius Malfoy to dismiss all signs of distress in her and pretend not to see or hear her cry.

"You weren't fifteen!" Hermione yelled at him, fists clenched as she glared at him through blurry eyes. "You didn't fight Voldemort!"

Lucius gave a miniscule twitch at the sound of the dreaded name, but gave no other signs of listening to Hermione's tearful rant. To be honest, he was tired of having to go over the points of war as he had had plenty of time in Azkaban thinking it over and had no wish to spend more time on the matter.

"You dwell too much on the past," Lucius said eventually when he grew irritated by Hermione's uncontrollable sobs. "Do try and behave your age, Miss Granger. It gets terribly tiring for everyone else to listen to your pitiful life."

Hermione looked up at him, completely stunned. The extent to which he was unsympathetic was unbelievable. Most people would have at least offered her a cup of tea, but no; Lucius Malfoy hated to acknowledge any feelings of pity or compassion that might make him remotely human. Hermione resented the fact that he didn't have the guts to offer a few words of comfort. If there was one thing bad guys couldn't do, it was that.

"You're horrible," she said, genuinely meaning it and giving him a sad look of a vulnerable victim who had just been horrendously bullied. Lucius turned his face to her with deliberate slowness, looking unfazed at the accusation. This only made Hermione want to cry harder and punch him in the face. She opted for a third option; the verbal assault.

"You're the nastiest thing I've ever had the misfortune to meet and I hope you die!" she said hysterically, knowing deep inside that it was an utterly childish thing for her to say, but she couldn't resist anyway. The first half of the sentence was true at any rate; he was horribly nasty and there was no getting over it.

"Even I never said that to you, Miss Granger, despite the animosity. I find it rather unnecessary for you to voice my death wish so crudely," Lucius replied coldly while Hermione's shuddering sobs disappeared as she calmed down slightly.

"You didn't need to say it. I could practically hear it whirring in your head," she said quietly with bitterness as she hastily wiped away her remaining tears and tried to clean herself up as best she could.

"I would never dream of wishing anybody to die. My concern for others simply does not stretch that far," Lucius said, the corners of his lips curling ever so slightly in a wry smile while Hermione huffed in her seat.

"What a pack of lies," she said grumpily while Lucius raised a fine eyebrow at her.

"Are you calling me a liar, Miss Granger?"

"A liar; a bigoted arse; a prejudiced chauvinist; a murderer; a torturer," Hermione reeled off angrily while Lucius gave no outward sign of being moved in the slightest by the harsh words, but inside, something flickered and flared.

"How flattering," he sneered while Hermione felt irrational rage claim her again and she had to take a few deep breaths to stop herself from launching herself at him and pummelling his smug face into oblivion.

"Don't you feel bad at all?" she asked quietly, closing her eyes to try and calm herself. "Doesn't it ever make you feel bad to know that you've hurt so many people?"

Lucius made no immediate reply but leaned forwards a little out of his chair to bring his face closer to Hermione's. Hermione opened her eyes and stared at him with terror rising in her as his unfeeling eyes bore into her and felt like he was dismantling her, piece by piece.

"Perhaps I should make it clear that you do not know me in the slightest and therefore have no right whatsoever to call me anything," Lucius said quietly in his usual silky voice that veiled a menacing note, making Hermione recoil slightly and try and lean away from him, but a strong hand caught her wrist and kept her there.

"Please…" Hermione pleaded, her voice coming out in a strained whimper as she tried to pull away from Lucius' iron grip, but for the first time that morning, he was looking terrifying again in his slightly wild-eyed look of suppressed rage.

"No! You listen to me!" Lucius hissed at her, keeping her uncomfortably close and grip beginning to bruise her frail wrist. "Don't you ever dare to presume anything, anything about me!"

"Please… Just let me go," Hermione begged, unable to bear the feeling that he was giving her. She felt like she was crumbling from the inside and she didn't know why.

"You cannot call me a murderer or a torturer when you don't even have proof that I did such a thing!" Lucius snarled at her, only tightening his grasp and making Hermione yelp slightly in pain. "Do not speak of the things you know nothing of!"

"You're hurting me!" Hermione whimpered when she could bear the painful pressure no longer and Lucius immediately seemed to come back to his senses and released her quickly while jerking back with a strange look on his face. Hermione cradled her hurt wrist as she shrunk back into her chair and quietly began to weep, feeling utterly crushed.

Lucius clenched his jaw and grasped the arms of his chair for a moment as he watched her sniffle into her drawn up knees in a pathetic gesture of deflated injury. Despite his fury at her ignorant labelling of him, he had to admit, he had lost control just then and hadn't actually intended to hurt her.

Hermione pressed her face into her knees, feeling drained and hopeless. He spoke the truth; she had no right to presume anything about him and she was being a hypocrite for building a prejudice about him. She had complained that pureblood supremacists had ridiculous beliefs, but she wasn't much different from them at the moment. She felt like a stupid child, and deep inside, knew that she still was one, unable to grow up and live her life as she should have done. She was there for Ginny and the boys to help them let it all go, seeing as she was the oldest, but who was going to help her?

"You need to stop seeing everything through the past, Miss Granger. It will do you no favours to live your life with your old views. Sometimes, changes are needed," Lucius said eventually, causing Hermione to slowly raise her head to look at him with a spark of curiosity.

"Have you changed yours?" she asked in a whisper, arms still wrapped around her legs as she peered at him over the top of her knees.

"It is a lengthy process," Lucius remarked with a barely detectable smile. "Nothing transforms overnight."

"I think some things do," Hermione said quietly in contradiction, making Lucius glance at her in a mild look of challenge. "You've changed."

"Really?" Lucius said in a manner of carefully feigned boredom. "How so?"

"You're – you're… you were…um…helpful last night," Hermione managed to say, feeling nervous about the sentence. She didn't want it to sound like she held him as her new hero or anything, but wanted it to seem like an indirect appreciation of his presence that had surprisingly brought some comfort. She watched Lucius anxiously as he paused to think over her words.

"You think I have changed, do you?" he drawled in a neutral tone, making it difficult for Hermione to decide how she should respond.

"Um…yes."

"Well, the truth is, Miss Granger, so have you," he said, turning to look at her surprised face.

"Me?" Hermione asked, completely baffled. She hadn't changed in five years. What transformations did he see in her now?

"Indeed. You are quite a fast learner, Miss Granger. Something I already knew of course, seeing as Draco used to fill me in on all the details about you and your friends, but I must say; you are not talking back half as much as I expected you to."

"Well, I guess I'm trying to grow up," Hermione said sullenly as she let go of her legs and placed her feet back on the ground.

"A valiant effort," Lucius commented. Hermione wondered if he was being sarcastic or not, but he was just too good at hiding his tone and expression. In the end, she decided she would have to be straight-forward with him.

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"Whatever gives you that idea?" Lucius asked in feigned surprise while Hermione searched her mind for an answer.

"It's not like you to give compliments to – um – people like me," Hermione said, twisting her hands in her lap as she tried to avoid the blood issue as much as possible.

"You think I am going to be discourteous with a Muggleborn?" Lucius asked, cutting straight to the point.

"Well, um… You're kind of…er…anti-Muggleborn and stuff, so…"

"Presumptions, Miss Granger," Lucius told her, leaning back in his chair. "There is no statute stating that I personally feel the need to curse every Muggleborn I see."

"But you do feel like that, don't you?" Hermione asked in surprise, leaning forwards a little to gaze at him intensely, waiting for a flicker of telltale expression.

"Stop presuming things, Miss Granger. Take things as they come," Lucius said in a slightly reprimanding tone while Hermione realised that he was right for once. "You must learn to observe and see beyond the surface."

"But you're still caught up in your pureblood beliefs, aren't you?" she asked, unable to figure out if he truly was reformed or not.

"We all have our beliefs, Miss Granger, but if I truly hated people like you, do you think I would be here?" Lucius asked her, making Hermione stop in her tracks and ponder the thought. True; a fanatic like Bellatrix or Rodolphus would have rather gone to Azkaban than accept the deal Harry had made with Lucius. The blond wizard must have had some sort of acceptance in him if he decided to make the choice to help protect a Muggleborn.

"I suppose…" she said at last, still weighing out the answer.

"You suppose what, Miss Granger?"

"I suppose we're all flying under one flag now," Hermione said, looking up at him to gauge his reaction. There was a small pause where Lucius considered the statement before turning to look her in the eye.

"You are learning fast, Miss Granger."


	6. VI

11\. Hesitation

Wednesday morning was upon the occupants of number Twelve, Grimmauld Place before they knew it. Hermione had suffered another fitful sleep and had woken up in her usual state of panic, but that was becoming normality these days. She had got dressed and ready for a new day without any mishap and found herself sitting aimlessly on the couch of the drawing room. Ginny was in her room packing as she was leaving in an hour to return to her Quidditch training course, while Harry and Ron were eating breakfast downstairs.

The sun was still bright for the days that were becoming more wintry, and Hermione turned around in her seat to face the beams of light coming through the windows. It was so delightful on her face, the sunbeams caressing her and soothing all her nerves. She didn't have to think anything when she could simply revel in the sunshine.

Life had been to inexplicably complicated for her for the past few years, yet she realised that on the one hand, it was all very simple. With her ever-working mind, she had made the plain situation into one of deep mystery and anguish. This, she realised, was the greatest drawback of an intelligent mind; the ability to overcomplicate things.

No sounds from outside penetrated the room, and Hermione felt the deep silence settle on her like a warm mantle, feeling peaceful. While everyone else in the house might be scurrying around with mad hurry driving them on, Hermione had nothing to do but enjoy the sunbeams.

It occurred to her that she hadn't been outside for a few days now and she decided she would go out as soon as possible. Maybe later that day... There were a lot of untied ends that she still needed to sort out, like seeing her parents and dealing with her position at work. When she thought about it, there were so many things to do, but she firmly let it all go and remained in a meditative state of mind. Right now, she was ageless. She wasn't being fifteen or twenty. She was simply; there.

The door of the drawing room opened, causing Hermione to snap out of her tranquil state and look up at the new arrival. Lucius walked in, dressed in his usual sumptuous robes of formidable black, his hands gloved and clutching his cane. Hermione felt a strange sensation of the moment being surreal; Lucius Malfoy was walking into the same room as her and had been living in the same house for a few days now. That struck her as very odd, considering both their pasts.

"Well, this is a surprise," he sneered at her. "I wasn't expecting to see you up until lunchtime, Miss Granger."

"Good morning to you too," Hermione said offhandedly, not rising to the bait and consciously deciding to stay calm. Lucius looked mildly surprised for a moment when he saw her remain calmly seated, but dismissed it as he sauntered towards a table near the windows. Hermione watched him as he glanced over the piles of parchment and books that had been left from a previous meeting between him and Harry in their quest for something substantial that might help them keep Lucius a free man. She wondered how he was really feeling as she knew he had a trial at eleven that morning.

"Is everything going to be alright?" she asked, eyes following his gloved hands as they picked up random sheaves of parchment and flicked through them.

"One can only hope," Lucius murmured absent-mindedly as he continued to read the plans in his hands.

"What – what are the chances?" she asked tentatively, not knowing how he would react. Lucius lowered the papers slightly as he turned to face her with a cold smile.

"I prefer to think that Potter has done enough to ensure my freedom. Otherwise I will have wasted a week of my free time when I could have been at home," he drawled in a deliberately careless tone. Hermione felt a stab of hurt at his reference of wasting his time. Of course, he couldn't be blamed for wanting to be in the comfort of his own home with his family, but it was a little hurtful to think that he still thought of her worthless and someone not deserving of his precious time. She had hoped that he might have become a little more sincere since their initial post-war meeting, but perhaps she was wrong…

"But with the minister on our side, there is a likelihood that I will come out as a free man," Lucius continued, not noticing the look of dejection on Hermione's face, or if he had seen it, he ignored it. He turned back to the table and Hermione was left to stare at his back, wondering what kind of ground they were on now. They weren't exactly enemies anymore, but they certainly weren't friends. They were still strangers to each other, yet in some ways, they knew each other more closely than they could have imagined. They were plainly opposite, but in one aspect, they were the same. Bound by their fears and unable to escape the trappings of one dark night in the looming room of Malfoy Manor.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked up from the floor where her gaze had dropped down to, and saw Lucius looking at her impatiently. Blinking a few times, she put her mind into the right gear as she entered reality once again.

"Yes?"

"Somebody is calling you," he said, gesturing to the door of the room which was slightly ajar. Hermione stood up quickly, surprised that she had heard nothing. Without another word, she hurried out of the room and onto the first floor landing to hear Harry calling her name. She ran nimbly down the stairs and approached the open door of the kitchen to see Harry fidgeting with a smart set of black robes and attempting to flatten his hair.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked on entering the long room, Harry looking grateful at seeing her.

"Thank Merlin, Hermione! I need you to help me with my hair!" Harry exclaimed as his hands frantically forced the unruly mop of jet black down in vain. Hermione broke into a smile at his request and began to laugh.

"What?" Harry asked with a frown.

"It's just a funny thing to ask for," Hermione chuckled. "It sounds like you're going to a fashion show!"

"Yeah, well…" Harry muttered, a small grin fighting to appear on his lips. "The Wizengamot are vicious judges. I need to look my best if I want to pass."

Hermione continued to laugh lightly as she withdrew her wand from a pocket of her jeans and waved it at Harry's hair, casting a non-verbal spell that controlled it. She was used to doing the spell as she cast it on most days or whenever her hair became too uncontrollable.

"There you go," she said as Harry's hair sat unnaturally flat and made him look very different.

"Thanks!" Harry said with a grin as he gingerly touched his hair to feel what it was like.

"You look very suave," Hermione said with another giggle while Harry pretended to frown at her. She laughed harder at his serious face and made him unable to restrain a smile. They were enjoying a small moment of mirth when a blustered Ron came rushing in, work robes a little askew and brilliant red hair clashing with the magenta shade of the fabric.

"Any of you seen my name badge?" he asked breathlessly as he began scanning over the table and the floor below. Harry and Hermione looked at him in surprise before coming to their senses and joining him.

"Ron, you're a wizard," Hermione said with a small sigh of exasperation as she pulled out her wand. "Accio badge!" Immediately, a silver badge flashing the name 'Ron' in a myriad of bright colours flew from out of a dark corner and into her hand. Ron looked immensely grateful as he thanked her and pinned the badge on the front of his robes.

"Er – Ron, you do know that you're staying here a few hours," Harry said to him, shooting Hermione a nervous glance.

"Oh, erm…yeah," Ron replied as he straightened up his clothes and looked up at Harry. "I told George that I wouldn't be coming in until two."

"Great," Harry replied and hurriedly sat down at the table and grabbed the folded Daily Prophet that was still to be read and looked deeply engrossed in page seven.

"Why're you going to work late?" Hermione asked, her initial confusion edging over to make way for her rising suspicion.

"To look after you," Ron replied simply as he sat down next to Harry and peered at the paper also.

"Look after me?" Hermione asked in a voice that went higher than she had intended. Ron looked up at her briefly to answer while Harry continued to look highly interested in the rising popularity of an obscure, new wizarding band.

"Yeah. We don't want anything happening to you."

"But I'm going to the trial," Hermione said, glancing at Ron, then Harry and something clicking in her mind.

"Listen, Hermione…" Harry started heavily as he laid the paper down and looked up at her slowly. "I know you're not going to like this, but please try and resist from hexing me."

"You're right, Harry Potter!" Hermione exclaimed loudly. "I am not going to like this!"

"We want you to stay here. The trial may trigger something and we don't want you to get hurt," Harry explained in a tone that suggested a hint of resoluteness, but he was not doing too well voicing it properly as he was slowly withering under Hermione's death glare.

"I cannot believe you!" she suddenly yelled at him. "You're always planning things behind my back and then telling me at the very last minute!"

"Hermione, calm down!" Harry said frantically while the sounds of Ginny coming down the stairs could be heard. "It's for the best!"

"You always say that!" Hermione continued to shriek while Ginny appeared behind her in the doorway and shot questioning glances at both her boyfriend and her brother. Harry gave her a helpless look while Ron refused to give any signs of supporting a side. He knew it was disastrous to take sides in such a feud.

"Hermione, let's sit down," Ginny said in a soft, but firm tone from behind her. Hermione said nothing when she felt the younger girl take her arm and guide her to the benches on the other side of the table from the boys. She was too busy sending nasty looks at Harry.

"Harry, Ron; get out," Ginny ordered them and they hurried to do so, leaving the girls alone in a matter of seconds. Hermione heaved a heavy sigh when they were gone and placed her arms on the table and rested her head on them. Ginny gave her a sympathetic look as Hermione took a few deep breaths to calm down.

"I don't know why I get angry like that these days," she murmured, eyes closed.

"You're just feeling stressed out," Ginny replied consolingly. "Anybody would be exploding like that if they were under the same pressure as you."

"But I still don't think it's right. I never used to get so cross, except when that thing happened between Ron and Lavender."

"It's alright," Ginny said, patting her on the shoulder. "It's probably just a phase." Hermione lifted her head, her eyes shining with tears as she looked at Ginny sadly.

"But I feel so bad! Everything Harry's gone and done for me, and then I shout at him and act like a horrible…" Hermione moaned, not bothering to fill in the last bit of her lament as more tears welled up in her eyes.

"He must think I'm such an ingrate…" she said with a groan as she lowered her head into her arms once more and sniffled into her soft, wool jumper.

"He doesn't, Hermione," Ginny told her softly. "He understands what you're going through and knows that you don't mean it when you get angry."

Hermione felt her heart twist even more; Harry was so unbelievably forgiving and empathic. She didn't know what she would do without him. Ron was her immediate protector and love, but Harry was the one who truly looked out for her and saw the things Ron couldn't see or feel. The fact that both Harry and Ginny knew what it felt like to be possessed, brought about a stronger connection between the three of them. Ron always cared for Hermione, but he wasn't able to really understand what she was going through. Her tears were sliding down her cheeks and she took a few deep breaths to avoid the gulping sobs.

"Oh, Merlin…" Hermione moaned with another sniff and a small smile. "I'm such an idiot," she said while Ginny gave another soothing pat on the arm.

"Don't be silly, Hermione. You're putting up a great fight. Being possessed is definitely not easy to overthrow. Look at me; I wasn't even semi-conscious while Tom used me. At least you can still half-think when that thing tries to take over you."

"I guess…" Hermione said, her voice portraying her doubting mind. Ginny gave her a reassuring smile as she leaned over to give her a hug.

"You're such a fighter, Hermione. You've been so strong even after what happened with Crookshanks."

"Just taking a leaf out of your book," Hermione murmured into Ginny's shoulder and gave a muffled laugh. The two girls pulled back, smiling for real. In rare moments like these, Hermione felt almost like her old self.

"I need to get my stuff. I'm leaving in ten minutes," Ginny said as Hermione dried the delicate track of salty tears staining her cheeks. With another sympathetic smile and pat on the shoulder, Ginny left the kitchen to get ready to leave. Hermione sighed again as she laid her head down on her arms and gazed at the wall behind the sink at the far side of the room. She could feel herself twisting and changing by the minute as her mind and spirit underwent heavy turns of fate. She hardly noticed when Lucius came into the room and paused to stare at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you always in the throes of irritating sentimentality, Miss Granger?" he asked in his haughtily bored manner as he pretended to heave a barely inaudible sigh. Hermione raised her lowered head at his smooth voice and looked at him in surprise.

"Sorry?" she asked, having not heard what he had said. Lucius just gave her an impatient look as he waved his hand in dismissal.

"Obviously, you are," he said as he walked past the table and headed for the armchair where his cloak was draped. Hermione watched him with bleary eyes, not really thinking anything as her eyes followed his graceful movements. A thought only occurred to her when she saw him walking past again, heading for the open door.

"Are you going?" she asked in a weary voice while Lucius stopped in his tracks to fix her with an imperious gaze.

"The ministry demands that we are there early," he replied curtly, while Hermione remembered at his use of 'we', that she would not be going. She slowly stood up, not flinching under his hard gaze, but walking towards him until she was standing a short distance away from him. She kept her eyes locked with his cold, unfeeling grey ones as she spoke.

"Good luck, Mr Malfoy."

There was a long pause in which Lucius stared at the young witch, taken aback by her words. Hermione herself didn't know why she had even said it, but somehow, she thought he deserved her best wishes when he had actually done a surprising amount of things for her. She knew that although he was a bit unlikable at times, his presence was a definite anchoring rock in her struggle against the dark seas.

"Miss Granger…" Lucius replied slowly at length, giving a small incline of his head as he gave her one last look and left the room.

 

Hermione sat in the drawing room, fingers fidgeting with the tattered covering of an old book she had in her lap. She was sitting on the couch, body upright with tense anticipation as she glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece every few minutes. She didn't notice Ron watching her with deep concern but continued to look between her fingers, the book, the floor and the clock. After a few more long minutes of watching, Ron sighed and rose from where he was sitting at the table by the windows, and came over to her.

"It's only half-twelve, Hermione. They'll be back in an hour," he said reassuringly as he seated himself next to her and slowly put his arm around her shoulders. Hermione heard him, but his words did nothing to soothe her agitated mind. What if the Wizengamot doesn't listen to Harry and Kingsley? What if Malfoy is sentenced to Azkaban? What will happen to me? I need him here… I want him here… He knows how to keep the darkness at bay…

No! I. Do. Not. Need. Lucius. Malfoy.

But I do! Only he can save me from the dark! Harry and Ron have no idea what to do, but Malfoy…he knows what he's doing…

This is stupid! Why did it have to be Malfoy of all people to save me? It's unfair how I have been brought to wanting him here. Why couldn't there be someone else I actually liked to help me and relieve me of my fears?

"Hermione?" Ron's voice pierced through her debating train of thoughts. "Are you okay?"

"Hmm?" she answered, barely hearing him as she turned to look at him.

"You don't look too good. Maybe you should rest?" Ron suggested, face holding a caring expression. Hermione felt a bloom of warmth in her heart at his sweet words, but shook her head in dismissal.

"I don't think that would help. I wouldn't be able to sleep."

"Well, then tell me about what you're feeling," Ron said, coming closer to her and surrounding her with his warmth.

"Why do you want to know?" Hermione asked tiredly, leaning into him and resting her head on his shoulder.

"Because I want to understand. I want to help you, Mione. You mean the world to me," he finished in a quiet murmur and making Hermione lift her head sharply to look up at him. He had pale blue eyes that reminded her of the sky and made her tingle with a strange but pleasant sensation.

"Do you mean that?" she asked in a whisper while Ron held her gaze and maintained a serious face.

"Of course I do, Hermione. I've always meant it. I love you and always will," he said without hesitation or reservations, now that they were alone with nothing but each others' company. Hermione took in his words in sweet delight. She knew he cared for her, but hearing him say it himself made sweet bells ring and choirs sing in the sudden swell of happiness inside her.

"Oh, Ron…" Hermione said with a wide smile as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. She could feel Ron holding her equally tight and closed her eyes to breathe in the warm atmosphere. It was so wonderful to have someone tell her that they loved her, but though she cared for Ron deeply, she wasn't feeling the blind euphoria she had felt when they were seventeen and had declared their love for each other. She knew there was something wrong with her, as it wasn't like her old self to feel a slight hesitation when it came to her and Ron. A week ago, she would have immediately leapt into his arms and declared her love for him loud enough for the rest of the world to hear. But now, something had changed in their lives. There was a new element that shifted the balance of their love and gave Ron the courage to be open about it, while Hermione felt the horrible tingles of doubt prick her.

"Do you love me?" Ron asked, releasing her and taking hold of both her hands with his large ones. Hermione stared at him in surprise, taken aback by the frankness of the question. It must have been only a split-second she spent on unexpected hesitation, but that moment stretched on for a long time as thoughts flashed through Hermione's mind. While she did love Ron very much as a friend, she was feeling a strange hesitation at answering his question. She didn't know why, but there was something in her stopping her from shouting 'yes' immediately.

"Yes," Hermione said, debating with herself whether she was lying or not. True; she loved him as a friend and perhaps more, but the events that had escalated from her nightmares had rendered a gap between them, and to her, it seemed to be growing bigger and bigger.

"I've always loved you, Hermione, and I always will," Ron said with a serious expression on his freckled face, his pale blue eyes holding Hermione's gaze with a sincere look. Hermione felt her heart twist and turn under the sweet purity of his eyes; he was so untainted by anything while she felt blackened in her cursed state. In her eyes, Ron held an aura of sweet, almost childish innocence that she had lost since the night Bellatrix had tortured her. She had never seen through the same eyes again after that. No one knew or had realised, but she didn't perceive things with the same naivety as she had before. Deep inside, she had grown up too fast and perhaps it was the fear of facing her heavy soul that kept her behaviour seemingly childish.

"I will always be here to protect you," Ron said, giving her hands a squeeze as he continued to look her in the eye with deep resolution. Hermione gave him a small smile, touched by his words, but somehow unable to believe that he would truly be able to protect her against the unknown darkness. She knew that he completely meant what he said, but an inner voice was whispering to her in her mind, telling her that Ron wasn't a match against the shadows that lurked in the darkness.

"Thanks," she said after a short silence, not knowing what else to say. She watched as a flicker of doubt dashed across Ron's face as something in his expression told her he was faltering.

"D-do you not love me?" he asked in a more tentative manner, looking a little anxious. Hermione immediately felt concern bloom within her as she watched worry creep over his face and her instinct of wanting to comfort him kicked in.

"Of course I love you," she replied reassuringly, taking a firmer hold of his hands as she gave him a heartening look. "You're my best friend," she said, meaning that she had always loved him and always would. Ron, however, mistook it for her way of backing out from his bold advances, and felt his courage flicker.

"Only friends?" he asked in a slightly hoarse voice, before clearing his throat and trying to look a little less unaffected. Hermione was caught out by the way the conversation was going, and found herself desperately wishing for someone else to be there to rescue her from the awkwardness of the moment. She glanced up at Ron and saw that he looked eager to know her answer, yet at the same time, slightly worried that it wouldn't be what he was hoping for. A vicious whirl of arguing thoughts tore through Hermione's mind as she was once again, caught in a moment of deep anguish.

Here was Ron, declaring his undying love for her, and she wasn't feeling as enthusiastic as she should have been. What was wrong with her? She felt confusion at her own hesitation, but was certain that there was more to the wavering of her mind than she knew. She wondered if the curse had changed her somehow, but she couldn't see how it would affect her and Ron's relationship…

"I love you Ron, and you know it," she replied a length, feeling her words grow heavier by the second as if she had announced her own death sentence. Wait! Why am I thinking of death when Ron has just said that he loves me? Isn't that what I've always wanted? Isn't that what I've always dreamed of? To have him say he will never leave my side?

Before she could contemplate the matter any more, Ron suddenly shifted as he let go of one of her hands to reach into an inner pocket of his robes. He flashed her a small smile as he rummaged in his pocket for something. As he did so, he began to speak with tentative words that were slightly nervous.

"Mione, I've been carrying this for so long because I never knew when I would have the chance to show you…" he said before frowning in concentration as his fingers felt the shapes of the various objects in his pockets. Working at Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes often meant that he would end up having all sorts of things on his person.

"What have you been carrying?" Hermione asked, wondering if he was going to pull out some new creation of George's or perhaps a humorous article from The Quibbler. He had done that in the past and she wouldn't have been greatly surprised if he produced a copy of the amusingly odd magazine.

"It's – it's just a little something," Ron said in a shy manner, stuttering ever so slightly as he started panicking at the disappearance of the thing he needed. Trust it to be there all the time in his pocket but vanished when he truly needed it.

"Ron, don't worry about it," Hermione said reassuringly, noticing his frown. "You can show me later."

"No, I think I should show you now…" Ron said as he continued to frown. Hermione was about to say that she really thought he should stop worrying, but was stopped by the unmistakeable sounds of the front door opening. With a jolt of surprise, she looked up at the clock to see that it was quarter-to-one and leapt up hurriedly.

"They're back! Come on, Ron!" she said excitedly, grabbing his hand and pulling him up. Ron looked bewildered for a moment at the interruption, and a shadow of disappointment swept across his face, but Hermione didn't catch it in her state of nervous anticipation. She was dying to know the results of the trial, but also afraid to face it in case something had gone wrong.

"No use in waiting," she muttered out loud as she ran out of the room with Ron hot on her heels. She paused at the top of the stairs to look down at Harry who was looking tired. At the sounds of their footsteps, Harry glanced up and gave them a small, weary smile. Within moments, Hermione had flown down the stairs and flung her arms around Harry's neck in a crushing embrace.

"Her-mione…" Harry choked out at the unexpected assault. "You're – you're strangling me!"

"Sorry," Hermione muttered, blushing with embarrassment as she released him. "I'm just so glad you're back so early! I've been waiting all day."

Hermione continued to gaze at her dear friend with a watery smile, all the anxiety and worry from that morning melting in a moment of great relief and glad to have a distraction from the troubling situation with her and Ron. Harry returned the smile before glancing up at Ron who had appeared behind Hermione.

"Going back to work, mate?" he asked him while he noticed that Ron's face didn't look quite as ecstatic as Hermione's.

"Yeah…" Ron said, his tone heavier than he had intended. "I should go. It's almost two…"

Hermione was saved from having to feel even guiltier at not giving him the expected reaction when the front door opened again, and a pale face that had grown rather familiar over the past few days appeared. Lucius Malfoy stepped through the doorway with regal strides, closing it behind him and passing the threshold as if he had only been out for a careless stroll. Hermione couldn't help pause to stare at how…endearing he was looking in his formidable black robes with his cloak thrown over his broad shoulders and his white-blond hair making a sharp contrast against the rich fabric. Lucius glanced at the three young people and immediately caught Hermione's eye. Hermione felt his cold grey eyes piercing her with their iciness, and despite the urge to shiver, she did notice the small, almost unnoticeable flutter of quiet gladness at seeing him. Even if he was disagreeable during daylight, his protection gave her solace during the dark nights.

"You're back," Hermione said softly, unable to churn out anything more sensible from the tangled mass of thoughts swirling around her mind. She didn't notice Harry and Ron watching her with frowns of curiosity, but only saw the haughty face of Lucius as he held her gaze and raised a fine eyebrow.

"Indeed," he drawled, not breaking eye contact as he slowly pulled off his gloves and shrugged off his cloak with graceful movements. Hermione watched his movements, mesmerised and uncertain what she should say. There was nothing she could think of to say that would express her unwilling desire to acknowledge his presence as soothing, as her mind still pictured him as the Death-Eater from many years ago, despite her heart's protest in saying that had changed for the better.

The awkward silence was broken by Ron stepping forwards to place a warm hand on Hermione's arm and gently but firmly turn her around to face him. Hermione felt a jolt of reality shoot through her as she was shaken out of her trance-like state from gazing at Lucius' grey eyes. To her surprise, she felt Ron grab her hand while he ducked his head in to place his lips on hers in a quick, but delectable kiss that made her tense and then relax in a matter of seconds. When he released her, he gave her a fierce look of love before giving Harry a dismissive nod and making for the door. Hermione was stunned into silence, not knowing what to make of his new behaviour. She only just noticed that Ron didn't offer Lucius a word or even a look of congratulations at avoiding Azkaban, but left the house in a manner that told her something was churning in his heart and brooding in his mind.

Nothing happened as the three remaining occupants of the house stayed where they were, Harry and Lucius both watching Hermione for signs of life as she seemed to have gone very still.

Hermione had forgotten herself as she got lost in the complicated twists of her intricate mind. There was so much confusion and she didn't know how to sort it all out. She loved Ron, but she had as good as said that she wasn't ready to love him for simply being more than a friend. That brought feelings of heavy guilt and burden upon her at disappointing him, but she knew that it was better to be straightforward than tell lies and suffer for it later. The other cause of great confusion and agony came with her rising suspicion of what the new element in her life was. She had a faint inkling of what was causing the dynamics between her and her best friends to change, but she wasn't willing to acknowledge it at all.

"Hermione?" Harry asked at last, placing a hand on her arm and making her jerk slightly in surprise.

"What?" she asked in a tone of slight panic, confused at what was going on. She had been so engrossed in her thoughts that she hadn't realised that she was still at Grimmauld Place.

"Maybe you need to feel fresh air?" Harry suggested while Hermione slowly returned back to her senses.

"Yes… That sounds like just what I need. Time and space to think," she said dazedly while Harry nodded vigorously in agreement.

"I need to get back to the ministry, but I'm sure Mr Malfoy won't mind keeping an eye on you," Harry said, straightening his navy work robes as he gave her a reassuring look. Hermione's mind wasn't sure if being watched by Lucius was a comforting thing and she instinctively stole a glance at him to gauge his reaction at the suggestion. She found his face impassive and not showing any signs of like or dislike, but his eyes were already trained on her, as if he had immediately begun his task as soon as Harry had mentioned it.

"Fine," Hermione said with a weary sigh, not bothering to put a fight. There really was no point when they were all supposed to be on the same side.

"Great!" Harry said with a grin before giving her a brief hug and hurrying back out of the house as he was late for work. Hermione watched the front door close behind him before turning slowly to look up at Lucius.

"Where do you plan to go, Miss Granger?" he asked smoothly while Hermione paused to think.

"The square," she replied, meaning the small, deserted, enclosed space of the square outside. She had thought about going for a wander around the streets, but felt reluctant to venture too far from the house as she wasn't sure if the shadows came only at night.

"I see," Lucius said, pulling on his gloves again and wrapping his cloak around his shoulders. Hermione stared at him with a look of shock while he gave himself a brief check and clutched his cane tightly in his hand. Upon seeing her wide eyes, he raised a brow at her in question.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked in a way that told Hermione that he couldn't care less if there was.

"Are you coming with me?" she asked in surprise.

"It would seem so. What were you expecting when Potter mentioned I would be keeping an eye on you?" he answered calmly, brushing away some imaginary specks of dust from his cloak.

"I – I don't know. Watch from the window?" Hermione offered, knowing it sounded foolish and it really wasn't a big deal that he was going to be watching her pace outside, but still, she wanted a moment of private thought.

"Have no fear, Miss Granger. My presence will be barely noticeable," he drawled in what was supposed to be comforting. Hermione still felt somewhat unsettled, but didn't want to remain in the house any longer, so she gave a small sigh as she watched him walk to the front door. She followed a short distance behind him, but paused to glance at him suspiciously when he opened the door and gestured with his cane for her to go first.

"Ladies first," he said in his polished tones of cold politeness. Hermione kept all the retorts on him being patronising to herself as she had more important matters to worry about. As she walked past him, however, she halted in mid-step as she felt the cold metal of the serpent-head catch her in the crook of the arm and stop her. Her heartbeat tripled instantly when she heard and felt Lucius come up behind her to lean his head over her shoulder to speak into her ear.

"Your young man has seen the green-eyed monster," he murmured, making Hermione jerk upright and stare ahead of her out into the street.

"What?" she asked in a small voice, unable to move her head for fear of touching Lucius' nose as he was awfully close.

"Jealousy is ever so amusing, don't you think, Miss Granger?" he breathed into her ear before stepping away sharply and pulling his cane back so that she was free to go. Hermione turned to look at him in puzzlement when she was certain he was standing a good distance away from her, and found herself frozen to the spot.

"Weren't you going to go and contemplate just what makes Weasley so dislikeable?" Lucius asked her in his usual bored tones while Hermione couldn't help feel wonderment at his sharp perception skills. She was about to make a smart retort, but closed her mouth on second thoughts.

Walking down the steps of the house, she felt the beams of the autumn sun shine on her face for real as she let go of everything and made for the small square across the road. She dismissed the nervous thought that Lucius Malfoy was following her and decided that she would make his presence unnoticeable to herself.

As she reached the black iron wrought gate of the square, she realised with a sigh that she had a lot of thinking to do.

 

12\. Decisions

The October sun was a blessing if there ever was one. Even in its fading shine, it spoke of warm promises and beautiful daylight. Its heavenly beams brushed the red leaves of the trees in the square and kissed the tops of the stiff grass that had browned from the summer heat.

The feel of a dry leaf between her fingers reminded Hermione of memories that seemed to speak of eons ago. Happy memories. Hogwarts. The Burrow. Home.

It all seemed worthless now, just like the leaf that crumbled like thick dust in her hand. She felt like she was remembering the memories of someone else, and had accidentally received them without knowing how to reach the true owner of the recollections. She was standing in front of a tall tree, staring at the reddened leaves as the branches swayed above her in the light breeze and caused a few leaves to fall slowly to the ground.

She wasn't sure what she was doing here. She had suddenly forgotten all sense of time and space as she gazed at nature's splendour and lost herself in the empty desert of a blank mind. It seemed that thinking too many thoughts made her brain automatically reject them all and shut down so that she was left with only a ticking heart and moving eyes.

Right now, nothing mattered. All she had to do was keep staring at the tree and she wouldn't have to think of Ron, Harry, Ginny, Malfoy, her parents, Crookshanks, Bellatrix…

Right now, she wasn't Hermione. She was just another creation of nature and she was content being just that. She had realised early on into the curse-breaking quest, that a thoughtful mind often resulted in burdens of all natures. She wanted to forget everything and simply enjoy what was there before her eyes, but her inner torment would not let her rest.

"Oh God…" she groaned in anguish, leaning her head against the tree as she placed her hands on its rough bark. "Why? Why?" she asked herself, squeezing her eyes closed as she tried to deal with one question at a time.

Ron loved her, and she loved him. Why was it proving so difficult to accept? What was stopping her?

She had been best friends with him for a long time now, and had loved him since the beginning. Of course, at that time, she hadn't known it, but it had been there all along. Being petrified had proved that when Ron had begun to show great concern for her well-being. Hermione knew that all the mess with Lavender had only been because of Ron's jealousy at her and Viktor Krum. Those had been dilemmas of being adolescent, and although they had been stressful at the time, Hermione did remember them with a certain wistfulness in her heart.

She smiled as she remembered the story of her and Ron through the ages. From all the fights to the sweetest kisses. From the good to the bad. Every moment meant something deep to her, but she didn't know why she wasn't soaring from their love yet. It seemed like she had taken ecstatic flight when they were seventeen and full of fierce love and determination. But she had landed back on the earth since the nightmares had grabbed her, and she felt like she was being kept from flying off again into the skies of love by the cruel, cold hands of her dreams.

Opening her eyes and turning around to look at the surroundings, Hermione's eyes fell on the most prominent landmark in the nearby vicinity; Lucius Malfoy.

He looked annoyingly calm, sitting serenely on a bench which he had thoroughly cleaned with his wand beforehand. Hermione would have called him a bigoted arse, but she herself couldn't blame him for want of a little cleanliness in a place where the bench had probably been pissed on by drunkards at an inane hour of night. She noticed that Lucius was clearly avoiding her eye in an attempt to pretend he was not there as she had made it quite clear that she did not appreciate having people surrounding her when she needed time to think.

Despite having forgotten about him when she was busy staring at the tree, Hermione couldn't forget he was there now that she had seen him. He had no expression at all on his stoic face and his grey eyes were averted towards the trees in the far corner of the square. If she hadn't known it to be his usual behaviour, she might have assumed that he was quite lifeless. It was a scary thought.

To calm her jumping nerves and worried mind at the thought, she walked back towards him, determined to make sure he hadn't suddenly died of an unexpected cardio arrest.

"Mr Malfoy?" she asked when she was standing a few feet away from him and he still refused to acknowledge her.

"Miss Granger," he replied immediately, taking her addressing of him to mean that he was allowed to respond to her.

"Just checking you're still in there," she said, gesturing to his head while he cocked a fine eyebrow.

"I am flattered by your concern," he replied in his smooth voice, clearly not moved at all.

"Yes, well, I thought it better to be safe than sorry. I don't want to be accused of manslaughter when the Aurors come," Hermione said, slightly indignantly. She really didn't like it how he managed to make everything sound like a petty joke.

"In that case, I will tell you if I happen to leave my body," Lucius drawled in a bored tone. "One never knows when the ability to escape physical bindings might strike."

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation while her hands were resting on her hips in a confronting manner. When she made no move to return back to her silent musing, Lucius looked up at her with a questioning expression, succeeding in looking regal and patronising, despite the fact that he was seated at a lower height.

"Was there anything else you wanted to know, Miss Granger?" he asked, making it quite clear that it was just a polite way of asking her why she was still there.

"There are many things I want to know," Hermione said thoughtfully, folding her arms to brace herself against the nip of the chilly breeze as she lost herself in thought. "So many questions…"

"In that case, I advise you to go make enquiries to that tree you seemed to be rather well-acquainted with. I could see it was very interested in your dilemmas," Lucius said in an even tone, but Hermione could feel the sarcasm dripping off his lazy syllables.

"You do know that you're not very helpful," she said to him crossly, snapping out of her trance-like state to glare at him.

"Common knowledge, Miss Granger. I help those whom I want to help. That generally means myself," Lucius replied carelessly while Hermione felt her usual irritation grate at her.

"That's so selfish!" she exclaimed while throwing up her hands in exasperation. Lucius seemed mildly offended by the gesture as he gave her another patronising look before presenting her with a renowned Malfoy sneer.

"We all have to look out for ourselves."

"But that's only half the story! We have to look out for others as well! There's no happiness in self-serving! " Hermione said loudly, annoyed to find him so different in his moralistic views.

"Miss Granger, quite frankly, I am growing weary of your constant sermons. Kindly save them for someone who actually cares about what you are saying," Lucius said with a small sigh, not bothering to look up at her but studying the movements of his gloved fingers as they flexed around his cane. Hermione felt infuriated by his lack of common courtesy and felt even more fired on by his reluctance to listen.

"But you can't be so self-centred! It will get you nowhere!" she cried with a few more dramatic movements of her hands. "It can't be right because I think –"

"I do not care what you think, Miss Granger," Lucius bit in, in icy tones as he turned to look her in the eye. Hermione's mouth fell open at his curt rudeness and was stunned into silence. "I shall warn you now; try and preach to me again and I will have to cast a Silencing Charm on you," he said levelly, as if it was the most normal thing for him to make such threats.

Hermione clamped her mouth closed when she realised it had been open for the last few seconds and hurriedly attempted to regain a little dignity. She caught the sly smirk of her failure to do so from Lucius as he watched her fidget with one of the long strands of frizzy hair that had escaped from the restraint of the hair tie. After a moment of solemnity in which she gained back an ounce of her adult gravity, Hermione took a few deep breaths to clear her crowded mind and concentrate on the matters at hand.

Ron. Think about what Ron said. Plan what needs to be done. Decide what I feel.

"What should I do?" she asked absent-mindedly, not really realising that she had voiced the question out loud.

"Remain silent," Lucius suggested calmly while Hermione jerked a little in surprise at his voice. She had actually forgotten he was still there when she had dived into the depths of her mind.

"What?" she said in confusion, having missed what he had just said.

"If it is guidance you are after, Miss Granger, I do not recommend myself as the one to attain it from," Lucius said before looking away from her and resuming his dead-pan study of the distant trees. Hermione frowned at him, thoughts clouding her mind as she tried to sort out the mess.

Ron loved her. Wasn't that enough to make her give up the entire world? She was sure she loved him also, but there was something that was like an iron barrier before her heart that stopped her in her tracks. It was like a fairytale gone wrong; Ron and Hermione had been destined for each other since the beginning to time. Why wasn't that notion working now?

"It's all gone so wrong…" she murmured to herself, looking down at the grass and staring hard at the withered blades of brownish green. Her life had become a horrible mess; complete chaos which she couldn't handle. She was supposed to be like Harry, Ginny and Ron; enjoying a new life in a new world. At what point had that fate gone awry and left her to blunder in the dark while the others raced on? Why had she been solely picked out by fate itself to have to suffer burdens that weren't hers?

"Why me?" she said despondently, turning to look at the only living thing around which happened to be Lucius, who raised a brow at the sudden question.

"Something a little more articulate please, Miss Granger," Lucius replied in unbothered tones. "Not all of us read minds the entire time."

"Why did this…this curse have to fall on me?" Hermione asked in a frustrated voice, feeling inner anger and despair grate at her nerves. "I did nothing to deserve this!"

"We all like to believe that we deserve more than we get in life," Lucius said calmly while Hermione paused to think over his words. Was he alluding to himself?

"But why? Why did it have to happen to me of all people?" she bleated in a pleading tone, tilting her head back to look up at the cloudless blue sky and clenching her fists at the perfection of nature around her.

"Is there any use in asking that?" Lucius said, causing Hermione to snap back to attention and turn to give him a hard look.

"What do you mean?" she asked with a frown of puzzlement.

"You do seem to wallow in your grief, Miss Granger. I am hardly surprised you wear yourself out and make yourself susceptible to outside forces. Emotions have a terribly tiring effect," Lucius remarked lightly, sounding surprisingly knowledgeable about what he was saying.

"I'm just confused…" Hermione moaned as she abruptly dropped onto the other end of the bench and hid her face in her hands. "Everything's gone wrong…"

When Lucius said nothing, she suddenly sat up again and turned to face him. His body was still sitting forwards, but he turned his head a fraction to look at her when she shifted. Hermione fixed him with a determined look as she frowned in concentration.

"How would you back out of something without saying a direct 'no'?" Hermione asked him in a resolute tone.

"I prefer to be direct," Lucius answered, eyes wandering over the slender forms of the trees that danced slowly in the wind. "It saves a lot of effort on my part."

Hermione looked down at her hands as she thought it over. She had to agree that perhaps being direct was the only way she was going to be able to make Ron accept her state of feelings. If she lied and pretended everything was fine, it would be painful for her and inevitably end up with some horrendous incident where the truth would be revealed. Dead love was not the path she wanted to take right now. Give it time, and perhaps she and Ron would end up together, but she needed a break to sort out her feelings that were running wild.

"Ron loves me," Hermione murmured, not realising that she was speaking out loud once again. Lucius turned to look at her with a slight frown, but she didn't notice him. "But I… I can't love him right now…"

There was a moment of silence which was punctuated only by the whistling of the wind that rustled the leaves on the trees and bushes. Hermione was lost in a trance, staring unseeingly at the grass before her. Lucius felt unnerved by her sudden announcement, but hid it with another dry remark.

"How tragic…"

Hermione jerked upright as she fell back into reality again and turned to glare at him, hating him for his sarcasm and unsympathetic nature that ruined the sentimental moment like smashing glass.

"Can't you at least pretend to be a little sympathetic?" she asked irritably, making more of a show of anger just to cover her flush of embarrassment at having actually spoken her private thoughts to none other than Lucius Malfoy.

"If I were to pretend to be sympathetic, Miss Granger, you would accuse me of making fun of you," Lucius reasoned while Hermione had to admit he had a point. "Either way, you would say something vaguely along the lines of insulting and it would not be the ideal situation."

"Fine!" Hermione concluded huffily. "But don't say anything unless it's actually helpful!"

"Manners, Miss Granger," Lucius drawled patronisingly. "You have no right to order me about like that when I am your senior. I deserve your respect."

"Well, you'll have to earn it," Hermione retorted, thoroughly infuriated by the conversation. She always found herself worked up whenever she talked with the older wizard; her anger was always fuelled on by the fact that he would rarely react if he could help it. His ability to maintain his cool was awfully annoying and perhaps it was envy of this that sent Hermione into the edges of deep aggravation.

"I think you will find that I have done more than enough in the past few days to earn respect from you. Unless you have had second thoughts and do not want my help any longer," Lucius said, leaning back against the bench and lazily turning his head towards her to give her a searching look. Hermione bit her lower lip as she debated with herself at what reply to make. She had the frivolous urge to shout that she didn't need him for anything. But that would be a foolish statement, as she would be cursing herself by the time darkness fell.

"I – I…" she started, but stopped when she couldn't think of anything to say.

"We shall see when night comes," Lucius remarked with a small smirk that vanished as soon as it had come. Hermione turned away from him and fumed silently, annoyed beyond comprehension at how he always managed to get a good hand and lay down all the trumps at the right moments.

It irritated her that he could manage to paint such a contrast between their levels of maturity with a few words. She hated to admit that he was considerably more knowledgeable and experienced than her, and couldn't help resorting to the childish means of talking back just to try and claim a victory that wasn't going to come any time soon.

"I'm going back in," she announced while standing up, unable to bear the smug silence any longer. Lucius gave her a careless glance before rising in one fluid motion, cape swishing slightly in a surreally choreographed way. Hermione watched his movement, suddenly transfixed by the eloquence the man carried and was somewhat unfair in her eyes. Lucius stood, looking at her expectantly when she didn't move.

"You were going in?" he prompted, making her come to her senses and march past him without another word. She didn't even look back to see if he was following, but walked quickly out of the square and up the steps to the house, overtaken by the urge to let everything out with a few expressive wand movements that would probably demolish half the drawing room. She would have to get all the inner anguish out of her system and straighten the tight knot of confusion in her before she would be able to face Ron. She needed to be her cool, calm self for that circumstance as she had made up her mind as what to tell him.

 

Hermione sat tense and nervous throughout dinner, not really listening to Harry and Ron's conversation about work, Quidditch and other matters. She only heard snippets of their talk as she was lost in her own world. She was glad Lucius had declined the offer of dinner to retire to his room for some rest, and was heartened by the fact that it was just the three of them for the first time in a week.

However, her joy was quickly dispelled by the looming conversation she was going to have with Ron. She had planned it all out in the remainder of the afternoon and she had reached the final decision. When the three of them had finished eating and Kreacher came to clear away the plates, the boys stood up and made to go chill out by the warmth of the fire. Hermione, who had guessed that this might happen, quickly spoke before her nervous mind would allow her to back out of it.

"Ron, can I speak to you?" Hermione asked with a small smile which she hoped covered her state of anxiety. She glanced at the worried face of Harry before looking at Ron who gave her an unsmiling nod.

"Sure," he replied in a dead tone and Hermione felt her heart twist again as she realised Ron was still not forgiving her for hesitating earlier that day.

"Let's – let's go to the drawing room," Hermione said in a firm tone that only just hid the tremor her heart was feeling. Ron gave another nod and waited for Hermione to lead the way. Trying to calm her raging nerves, Hermione gave him another small smile and walked out of the kitchen and up the first flight of stairs onto the first floor. She heard Ron's heavy tread behind her and she could tell that his heart was as heavy as his feet.

Ignoring the thought in order to maintain her calm, Hermione opened the door to the empty drawing room and walked over to the back of the couch, hands gripping the back slightly. She watched as Ron followed, closing the door behind him and remaining where he was. The look he was giving her clearly showed his feelings. Fierce love, confusion and hurt was what she saw in his pale blue eyes and the intensity of those emotions stuck another chord in her heart.

"Look, Ron…" she began with a heavy sigh.

"You don't love me, do you?" Ron immediately bit in, voice sounding admirably indifferent, but Hermione knew he was breaking on the inside.

"Of course I love you," she replied quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong impression. "I always have and always will."

"Then why are you holding back, Hermione? What's stopping you from being with me?" he asked, voice this time definitely cracking a little while his struggle to maintain a passive face melted away to be replaced by an expression of deep sadness. Hermione wanted to run over and comfort him and soothe away his wretchedness, but she knew that she couldn't do that right now. She had a job to do and it would only be in his favour.

"Don't get my wrong, Ron. I do love you," she affirmed in a steady voice. "But I'm not feeling like myself right now. I'm not feeling that we are like…like how we used to be."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked rapidly, confusion evident in his freckled face as a flitter of hope and fear passed over his face. It pained Hermione to think of the agony he was going through, but it was better he suffer the small dose of it now, rather than drown in a sea of it a later date.

"I…I can't love you."

"Wh-what d'you mean?" Ron said hoarsely, coming forwards in a jerky walk to stand at the other end of the couch.

"We missed the window that was open to us, Ron," Hermione explained with another deep sigh, reciting the line she had rehearsed the entire afternoon. "That window which could have offered us all the happiness in the world has closed. We missed it."

"No, Hermione!" Ron gasped desperately, lunging forwards to grab her hand in a tight grip. "Don't be like this!"

Hermione flinched at the painful squeeze he gave her hand, but did not pull away, knowing that if she did, his heart would shatter completely there and then.

"I'm so, so sorry, Ron, but I had to tell you," Hermione said softly, feeling a pain sear through her own heart as she watched tears form in her best friend's eyes.

"Oh, Hermione…" Ron moaned with raw despair choking his voice and making him stop what he was saying to gulp in some air. Hermione looked at him with pity and compassion as he paused to try and regain control of his emotions. "Why? Why?" he choked out, still clutching her hand while fixing her with a desperate gaze that made her want to cry.

"Because I love you too much to hurt you," she replied sadly while Ron collapsed onto his knees and buried his face momentarily in his hands before surfacing again with red eyes but no tears on his cheeks.

"Do you know what I was going to show you today?" he asked in a voice that faltered and threatened to break. Hermione shook her head, not sure if she wanted to know. She felt guilty and terrible beyond belief for what she was doing to him, but she had to do it now when she still had a chance.

"I was going to show you this," Ron said in a trembling voice, pulling out a small velvet box of rich blue that made Hermione's heart leap into her mouth from sudden delight and expectancy, but immediately drop into the depths of her stomach when she realised that it was a lost dream now.

Ron didn't say anything else, but opened the box slowly with trembling fingers, still on his knees while Hermione watched with growing pain. She gasped audibly when she saw the contents of the box. There, on a perfect gold ring was a small but dazzling diamond that seemed to capture the low light in the room and transform them into beams of pure radiance. Hermione had tears in her eyes as she stared at the token of Ron's love and the saddest smile she had ever seen etched on his face.

"There you are, Mione," he said in a whisper. "I wanted to give this to you."

"Ron…" Hermione gasped, hastily wiping away the thick torrent of tears that was streaming down her tears. "I – I don't know what to say," she admitted.

"Don't say anything," Ron advised in a soft voice. "Just – just forget that I was going to ask."

"But Ron –" Hermione started with anguish thickening her voice.

"No, Hermione. I don't want you to feel sorry for me," Ron said firmly, standing up and closing the box. He seemed to have regained his senses at seeing the pitiful look on her face. "I – I think I understand your reasons and I respect you for telling me now."

"Really?" Hermione asked in a whisper, emotions constricting her ability to speak louder.

"Yes," Ron said with deep resolution, although his face fell as soon as he said the word. Hermione let out a loud sob at his firm courage and sacrifice and felt it couldn't get any worse. She was hurting her dearest friend and love more than she would have ever wished. With deep remorse already prickling her, she threw her arms around Ron and hugged him tightly, grateful beyond words at his understanding and love for her.

"It's alright," he murmured into her mane of unruly hair as he held her tightly, knowing that this was probably going to be the last time he would be able to hold her like that. "I will always love you, Hermione."

Hermione released him and held him at arm's length while she sniffed and tried her best to still her heaving chest. She gave him a tentative smile and was rewarded by a glorious beam on Ron's lips as he returned the gesture. It made Hermione want to cry all over again; he was being so heroic by setting her free and she knew he deserved happiness more than anyone else.

"Thanks," she managed to say at last, wiping away her last tears to step back and gaze at Ron who seemed to have recovered from his moment of no control. He gave her another reassuring smile before taking up a serious look as he took her right hand gently in his.

"Hermione, I want you to have this," he said steadily as he placed the little box into a stunned Hermione's hand. "I – I want you to remember what I said in case you change your mind, and think of me if you – you meet someone else."

Hermione looked up at him in utter shock, unable to believe her ears. Her wide eyes looked up at Ron in wild question, but he gave a firm nod of his head to show that he meant what he said.

"But Ron! This must cost a fortune! What happens if you want to – to give it to someone else?" Hermione asked in a high voice, unable to believe that he would give the precious ring to her so freely.

"You would be the only one I would give it to, Hermione," Ron replied with a sad smile as he closed her hand around the box and stepped back from her. "You will be the only one I love."

Hermione could think of nothing to say. Her mouth had gone dry. What could she say to soothe his hurt?

The two of them held the deep silence that was full of sadness and hurt before Ron gave in and bit his lip in an attempt to hold all his emotions in. Hermione watched with tears forming in her eyes once more as he gave her a small smile before escaping the room and leaving without another word. She did not missed the look of hopeless anguish that swept across Ron's darkened face as he turned away from her and left through the door.

Another chapter had been closed in her life and she couldn't help wonder if all right things had been said. She had expected him to take it with large amounts of distress and pain, but she had never expected to feel that great hurt herself. Deep down, she knew it was the sign of love for him, but she had done the right thing. Breaking all expectations off now would save even greater pain later. At least the reason was just about the two of them, and not some other hideous situation involving other individuals.

Ron… Ron… Ron…

She collapsed onto the floor and leant against the back of the couch, closing her eyes shut tightly to try and stop the tears flowing out, but it was all in vain. She was sobbing loudly before long and clutching the little box in her hand as if it were her lifeline. It felt like her heart had cracked at the initial look on Ron's face, and feelings of immense guilt at bringing him so much pain swept over her.

But it had been the right thing to do, had it not? She was sure she wouldn't have wanted to stay with him either, had he offered it. She loved him, but they had missed the chance to be together. Maybe that chance would come again, but for now, it was over. She was on her own.

"My, my… Your life is simply bursting with drama, Miss Granger," a silky voice drawled with false sympathy from above her, and Hermione slowly raised her head in horror to look at the bored face of Lucius. She felt the red rise to her cheeks, embarrassed to be seen in such a state and hurriedly turned away to try and clean herself up. Lucius remained where he was, standing a short distance away from her. Hermione hadn't even heard him enter. He could be awfully cat-like at times, and she had to wonder if he was some kind of animagus.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" she demanded in a forced voice, trying to cover up her distress with her usual spitfire.

"There is no need for such attitude, Miss Granger," Lucius responded in a calm voice, although Hermione could hear the warning the tone held.

"I don't want to see anyone right now. Please leave me alone."

"So that you can drown yourself in your miseries?" Lucius asked lightly, his words striking at Hermione like rods of steel that beat the last straw out of her.

"I wounded him beyond words! His heart is broken because of me, yet he still gave up everything for my sake!" Hermione wailed despairingly, losing all control of her senses as she threw herself against the sofa and cried tears of agony afresh. She still gripped the little box in her hand, and Lucius wasn't one to miss such details.

"I never meant to hurt him… I did it for the best…" Hermione softly moaned, eyes closed as she pressed the side of her head against the piece of furniture and lost herself in her grief. It felt like she had been torn asunder from her Ron, but in truth, she had been the one to bring them to such sorrow.

She continued to weep quietly, chest heaving with gulps now and then as her free hand clenched into a tight fist and she seemed to silently berate herself. Lucius watched her with indifference in his mind. He really wasn't affected by her cries of anguish or the innocent tears of her lament, but what bothered him the most was the fact that her broken state reminded him of a night he so desperately tried to block out of his mind. The night that his human conscience had finally come to life and struck him with something he had never felt before; pity.

Now, as he stared at the crying girl at his feet, he felt that same, unwanted feeling of pity quietly poke its head out of his iron heart, and to his great annoyance, spread into his mind. It felt like he was being controlled by two personas in one body; Lucius Malfoy on one side, attempting to maintain a cold demeanour; and the inner human on the other, which felt, saw and heard everything with great sensitivity.

His former self glared down at Hermione with deep irritation, angered to find that he wasn't fully his old self. Another small, small part of him argued that he was a new man now. Times changed a lot of things and Lucius Malfoy was no exception.

Lucius frowned deeply when Hermione curled her legs up and rested her weary head against the cool fabric of the couch. Her tear-stained cheek evoked flashbacks from the horrible night at the Manor and forced him to consciously clear his head of such distractions. Looking at her was like torture; he wanted to leave her there and walk off to attend to businesses elsewhere. After all, she had told him to leave her alone. Yet the newly discovered and steadily emerging humane side urged him to do something besides leaving her in such darkness.

After a moment of debating thought, he came upon a decision. He hoped it was a good one, because already he had doubts forming at his next actions.

"Come, Miss Granger," he said in as gruff a manner as his eloquent voice could manage and roughly took hold of her limp arms to pick her off the floor. He was surprised to find that the girl gave no signs of resisting, but looked ahead of her with deadened eyes.

"You need rest," he said firmly as he guided her out the room, careful only to touch her enough to keep her walking. He didn't like the fact that he had to touch anyone, especially a girl who was essentially a Mudblood. But he was wary that she might panic at the withdrawal of his wand and he would be caught in a frenzied duel if he pursued that path.

Up a flight of stairs, and Lucius had managed to steer Hermione towards her bedroom door, which now stood before them. When Hermione made no move to open it, Lucius gave a small sigh and leaned forwards around her to twist the brass door knob. As if that was her cue to move, Hermione pushed the door open and walked in like a robot, mind elsewhere as her body automatically went over to the bed.

Lucius watched from the doorway, not crossing the threshold to the dark room as he had no wish to enter. All he needed to do was make sure she got into bed and not get up to any other funny business. He felt relieved when Hermione did as he hoped and climbed into bed without bothering to change and lay with her back to him, limp as a corpse.

Satisfied, Lucius closed the door and left her to get some sleep. It annoyed him that he happened to be chosen to help a girl who happened to be struck by the most disastrous episodes that could be expected. His fortune had really come to an end and bad luck seemed to accompany him everywhere. He was mildly surprised that he wasn't in Azkaban right now, and to be fair, he did prefer to be in some dark and dank house of an ancient pureblood family than be sitting in Azkaban like a skeleton.

He permitted himself to show a small smirk to the shadows flitting around the dim landing as he descended the stairs. Perhaps he had made the right decision after all in accepting Potter's offer. It was really quite fortunate for him to get such a proposal where all he had to deal with was some unbearably emotional young woman who could still be called a girl. In any case, he had tolerated much worse. Bellatrix, for instance.

Yes, he had made the right decision for once in a very long time, and he was glad of it.


	7. VII

13\. Lost and Found

Filthy… Disgusting… Smears of unnatural grime… Bloodtraitors, half-bloods and Mudbloods… They're all the same. Hideous in their pathetic existences. Not worth having in the world. They pollute the purity of the ancient families with their impure blood. 

Filth, filth, filth…

These walls have raised the great men of the Black household. What are all these disgusting creatures doing here, soiling the magnitude? Worthless works of half-breeds and Muggles; they don't deserve to breathe the air that the pure breathe. They don't deserve to share the same world as us pure beings. They don't deserve anything greater than death. And torture.

Yes…delicious torture. Hearing those screams of pain… So delicious!

That half-breed and the blood-traitor are lying asleep. Must kill them. Oh, what fun! I'll see their red, red blood running down the walls before the night is through. Their revolting blood will spray from the very wounds I hack! Oh, joy, joy, joy!

The room can be purged of the filthy blood later. All I want is to show those vile vermin just what they were born for. In killing them, I will be doing them a favour. They will have a small taste of the greatness of the ancient families. Then, I will spill their repulsive blood while they beg and scream for mercy! I will make them scream their little hearts out until they are dead!

I can see the corridor. There's the room of the half-blood. I'll come for him later. I want to get the useless bloodtraitor first. He deserves nothing more than the first round for siding with the filthy vagrants! I will twist this in his little arm until the blood comes pouring out of his mouth and nose!

Yes, there's the door. They're fools to sleep in the dark when they know I am here. Impure blood can be blamed for their stupidity. They're worse than animals! Oh, good! The disgusting lump's asleep. I think I shall wake him and let him know just who has come to visit…

Huh? What?

Slowly, slowly. I want this to be fun… This wand is too inexperienced, but that can be changed. I think I shall try my old repertoire of spells. Starting with a light waking hex. So delicious…

Wh-where am I? What's going on? I can't see properly…

Non-verbal spells were always an advantage. Now, let's see if that worthless swine is a light-sleeper…

This isn't my room and it's not the Manor… Wh-what's that moving? It looks like someone sitting up in a…bed?

Ah… the fool is waking. Now, shall I go straight into a Cruciatus, or maybe my personal special?

Why does my vision keep going black like that? I want to see where I am. It looks like one of the bedrooms in the house, but I know it's not mine. Is that…Ron sitting up in bed? Why am I in Ron's room?

Cruciatus is ever so delightful, but a little use of the blade is even more amusing. I'll curse the oaf later…

I'm – I'm going forwards! I don't want to be here! I need to go back to my own room! 

Slowly, slowly…

Oh my god! It is Ron! How on earth did I get into his room? I need to get out of here before he wakes up. My vision keeps going really blurry. What is wrong with my eyes? I – I keep zoning out… What the… Am I feeling steel in my hand?

Get rid of this impure filth!

"Hermione?"

Ron?

Damn fool! I'll silence his stupid mouth!

"Wh-what are you doing? Is - is that a knife in your hand?"

Ron. Ron! Why can't he hear me? I'm just gliding forwards and I can't stop! I can't control myself! No! The knife! The knife!

"Hermione! Stop it! What's wrong with you? Just drop the knife! You're going to hurt me if you hold it like that! No! Hermione!"

Imbecile! Let me at him!

"Get off me! Watch that knife! St-stop it! I don't want to hurt you!"

Ron! Ron! Come back! I can't see you properly! Help! The Knife! What's it doing in my hand? I need to drop it and get out of here. Ron!

No! I must cut that vein. Oh, that deliciously blue vein! Goodbye bloodtraitor! No one will be disappointed to see filth like you gone!

"Hermione! Get off! This is dangerous! Hermione? Can you hear me? What the hell?"

So close! So close! Just another lunge and I'll have him! Just another –

Help! What am I doing? I'm on Ron's bed! I'm on Ron! This is crazy! What's going on? I can see the – oh… it's getting dark again. Ron? I can't see you… I can't…

"HARRY! MALFOY! SOMEBODY! HELP!"

Stupid animal! He's stronger than I thought. Maybe I'll just Crucio him now instead and get the half-blood with the knife. Yes, that sounds more reasonable.

Ah! I can see again! Ron, it's okay. I 'm not going to hurt you. You don't need to look so terrified. I'm just going to go back to bed now so –

The vein!

"MALFOY! MALFOY! BLOODY HELL! SHE'S TRYING TO KILL ME!"

What? I'm not doing anything? What's he on about? I just need to move my leg and… Why can't I move my leg? Oh, no… Not darkness again…

"MALFOY, SHE'S GOING TO –"

Blood! 

Oh… That scream… It sounds so faraway… Who could possibly be screaming at this time of night? Where's Ron gone?

Blood again!

NO! That knife! It's in my hand and it's covered with – with blood!

Walls of ice came clamping down on Hermione as she felt her mind fall headfirst back into reality and the bubble of dreamy confusion pop. The room was filled with a terrible scream. The scream she had heard hazily only moments ago. A terrible scream that reminded her of one horrifying night and a thousand torturous dreams.

"NO! RON!" she shrieked, the cold reality hitting her as a clatter of steel joined the chaotic sounds of the night.

"NO!" she screamed as the flame of red hair moved about violently while Ron thrashed around in bed, continuing to scream with raw pain. She lunged forwards, desperate to get to his side and see what had happened to him, but she was held back. Held back by what felt like iron chains around her waist.

"Don't move!" a voice snarled in her ear before she was released and unceremoniously dropped to the floor. Hermione landed painfully on her knees but didn't register the hurt as she shook her head with disbelief. She couldn't have just hurt Ron… It had to be another bad dream… It had to be…

"Weasley?"

That was Malfoy's voice. She was sure of it, but she didn't know how he would be saying that in her dream. Looking up, she could see a dark figure bending over Ron, but what was going on?

"Weasley! Can you hear me?"

A long, loud groan of absolute agony sounded from the bed while Ron ceased moving to keep on issuing loud, hoarse moans of inexplicable hurt. Hermione stared at the dark silhouettes in the room and slowly, slowly, she realised that she wasn't going to wake from this dream. This was no dream. It was real. Very real…

"What's going on?" a breathless voice said from the doorway. Hermione turned around from where she was sitting on the floor to look up at the worried face of Harry as he took in the scene.

"She cut his wrists," Lucius said curtly while Ron emitted a hoarse cry.

Hermione's mouth fell open. She had cut Ron's wrists? She couldn't recall doing any such thing. It can't be. It can't be…

"Ron!" she cried before pushing herself off the floor and propelling herself towards the bed, desperate to know the truth and to make sure that she wasn't dreaming.

"Get back, Miss Granger!" Lucius barked at her, but Hermione ignored him, eyes only on the contorted face of Ron as he squirmed in bed with pain.

"Ron! It's me! Hermione!" she said to him frantically, grabbing hold of the bed sheets and looking at him searchingly for signs of recognition.

"No!" Ron gasped out in alarm, eyes widening as he saw Hermione. "Get her away from me!"

"Ron! It wasn't me! I swear it wasn't me!" Hermione cried desperately, but Ron didn't hear her pleas.

"Get her away!" he yelled in maddened fear while Hermione felt her heart twist and shatter at his fervent denial of her.

"Ron! Please! It wasn't me! It wasn't me!"

"Get back, Granger!" Lucius said loudly over the confused cries. "Potter! Get her out of here!"

Hermione felt a pair of hands take her in a gentle but firm grip on the shoulders. She struggled to free herself, but she couldn't escape the grip as someone pulled her away from the scene and she lost sight of Ron. The door closed swiftly in her face and she heard the click of a lock. Malfoy is still in there with Ron! He might finish him off!

"Hermione, let's go to the drawing room," Harry said firmly from behind her while Hermione continued to stare at the door as if hoping that that would enable her to see through it.

"Come on," Harry said quietly, pulling her away from the door and across the dimly-lit landing to the drawing room. Hermione didn't even notice that she had been guided over to the couch and was sitting down on it while Harry paced a small stretch of hearth rug before her, casting anxious glances towards the door.

All she could think about was Ron. Her mind was filled with nothing but thoughts of what she had done to him. She had tried to kill her best friend. She had tried to kill her love. She had tried to kill him…

"It wasn't me…" she said faintly, gazing unseeingly at the marble fireplace while paralysing frost crept up her insides and turned her to ice. She couldn't think properly. All she could do was feel. Feel the guilt and pain.

It wasn't me…

"Hermione, listen to me," Harry said resolutely while crouching down before her to look into her dazed eyes and take both her hands in his. "We know you didn't do it."

"But Ron told me to go away…"

"He's not in his right mind," Harry explained firmly. "He's delirious from pain."

"It's all my fault…" Hermione said in a voice barely above a whisper as her mind reeled from the mad moment only minutes ago. "I- I tried to kill him… Ron…"

"Hermione!" Harry said sharply, cutting off her dazed words and squeezing her hands to bring her attention back to him. "You did not do anything! You were being possessed!"

"I tried to kill him…"

"No, Hermione! It wasn't you!"

"I tried to kill my best friend…" Hermione repeated dully, not hearing Harry's words of reassurance. "I tried to kill him…"

"Hermione! Stop thinking you've –" Harry was saying fiercely but was interrupted by the door of the drawing room opening and Lucius stepping in. Hermione didn't wake from her frozen stupor as her emotions dragged her down to the bottom of the darkest seas. She couldn't sense anything else besides the guilt, pain and anger at her lack of control over herself.

"I have healed his immediate wounds, but you need to take him to St. Mungo's right away," Lucius said to Harry abruptly while Harry nodded.

"Yes, I'll do that," he muttered, leaving the room at once.

Hermione continued to stare at nothing while she was left feeling broken and despairing. There were no tears coming out of her as she was stilled into crippling shock, but the shame and guilt washed over her in continuous waves of ice. She was freezing.

Numb. 

Ron, Ron, Ron… She couldn't believe what had happened tonight. It was just so unreal. How could she have stabbed him without knowing? Why couldn't she control herself?

She was cursed. She was bound by fear of a shadow. A shadow that had possessed her tonight.

Her entire body was trapped in unmoving ice while only her heart seemed to beat. Slowly. She could barely feel her blood pulsating within her. Everything was going numb and her brain was shutting down. She had tried to kill her best friend… She had truly lost Ron… Any trust he had had in her must have evaporated with the first strike. Despite the deep, deep grief, Hermione couldn't cry. It was just too unbelievable.

Why hadn't she put up a fight? How could she have lost so easily?

She didn't notice another's presence in the room, but continued to sit rigid, unable to feel anything outside her body. Her heart lay shattered in a million pieces at the bottom of her pit, useless and torn like broken glass.

Numb. Broken. Lost. 

"Forgive me…" she whispered to the air in front of her, wishing beyond all things that Ron might hear her. Wishing for nothing more than his forgiveness. "Forgive me…"

One small tear slid out from under her dark lashes as she slowly blinked it away. Her life had fallen away when she had made that fatal stroke. She couldn't live. Not now that she knew what she had done.

I tried to kill him…

She didn't notice when Lucius walked over with slow steps to stand directly in front of her so that she was staring at his black robes. The change of view didn't stir her in the slightest as she was lost to her own world. She was numb to everything beyond her own frozen mind and shattered heart. What was there to think about now that her love was gone?

"Miss Granger…"

Please forgive me… Please… I love you… Don't hate me…

"Miss Granger."

It wasn't me. It wasn't me.

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione looked up slowly to set sight on the pale face of Lucius as he gazed down at her with an expressionless face. She blinked a few times to make certain that he wasn't an illusion before she decided that he was also very real, much like her devastating act against Ron.

"You should go to bed," she heard Lucius say, but his words flew over her like the whisper of a passing wind, her mind working slower than she had ever thought it capable of.

"It wasn't me…"

"No one said it was. Now, go to bed," Lucius commanded in a tone that would have made anyone who heard it, obey. But Hermione had barely registered that he had spoken again. All she could think about was the guilt twisting her gut and stabbing her like a stinging cold knife that froze everything it touched.

"Miss Granger, are you listening to me?"

"Forgive me…"

"You are forgiven. Go to bed," Lucius repeated, giving her one last chance to comply of her own free will.

Hermione simply stared into the expanse of rich black material before her and tried to remain upright in her dizzy state. Her mind was swirling with too much shock and she could feel her mind system freaking out and crackling like electricity. There was a growing pain between her eyes while she felt her vision darken.

Her dimming sight was immediately lit up again when hands firmly took hold of her arms and pulled her up onto her feet. Although her eyes could clearly see the drawing room in its softened light, it was like a vague memory to her that was slipping away as each second ticked past. She didn't even notice that she was walking with his hand holding onto her elbow and guiding her up the stairs.

She was staring at the wooden door of her room before she knew it, and like a machine, she stopped at the obstruction. When the door swung open apparently of its own accord, she numbly tottered into the dark room and headed for the bed, feeling a distinct rush of déjà vu as she did so. She wasn't aware of anything besides the slow crumpling of her spirit and the torturous crushing of her soul. Such pain, such pain…

She pulled back the tousled covers of her bed and slowly eased herself onto the white sheets, unable to heed the strange state of her messy bed or the darkness of the bedroom. She simply sat against wooden headboard, staring at the curtained windows ahead of her as one train of thought chugged past her in a continuous line.

I tried to kill him…

She didn't even notice the dark silhouette of someone approaching the bed and strong hands taking hold of the rumpled bed sheets and pulling them over her scrunched up figure as she sat with legs pulled up and arms wrapped around them.

She didn't even notice the eyes that gazed at her with cold unfeeling, but did distinctly feel the shadow of her tormentor lurk in the corners of the room.

"No. Not again…" she whispered fearfully as she pulled herself closer to the headboard and stared with unnaturally wide eyes at the corner where she had detected a faint tinkle of eerie laughter that sounded mad.

"What is it?"

Hermione jerked her head up in alarm at the smooth, male voice and pushed away from the direction she had heard it from. She didn't want to see the dead face again. She was scared. Scared beyond all fears and nothing could soothe her…

"Miss Granger –" Lucius started, but Hermione made a small noise of fear as she looked at him with wild eyes that held a hunted look.

"Get away from me! Leave me alone! You've done enough for one night!"

She hurriedly pushed herself to the other side of the bed and peered at him fearfully with maddened eyes. She didn't see the wizard that was trying to extend some form of help to her, but she could see the shadow flitting around his dark silhouette.

"No! Don't come near me! Look what you've made me do! I tried to kill him!" she cried out into the unforgiving darkness. Her eyes followed the streaks of yellow as the dreadful eyes darted around with the shadow; maniacal laughter ringing faintly through her tormented ears.

"Please! Please forgive me!" she pleaded into the horrible dark, convinced that Ron had come to kill her in revenge for what she had done. "It wasn't me!"

She let out a small scream as the pale, dead face swam into view, a mop of familiar red hair hanging limp around it and blue lips smiling in a horrible, taunting curl. The familiar feeling of clammy, cold hands sliding up her legs and grappling at her made her twist and turn frantically in an attempt to get free.

"No! Help! Let me go!" she yelped as the hands of the dead grasped her and tried to drag her under the surface of the suffocating darkness. "It wasn't me!"

Asphyxiation.

It was a horrible way to die. Hermione could feel the cold darkness pressing against all sides and slowly crushing her in its merciless grip. She was choking and guttering as icy hands pulled her under the surface and smothered her mouth.

She was dying… Dying without knowing if she was forgiven… She was dying without redemption…

Then she could suddenly breathe and took in a huge gulp of fresh oxygen which rushed to her head and made her feel dizzy by the sudden change. The cold, wet grip of the dead had vanished and was replaced by a feeling of comforting warmth. She could breathe. The air tasted so sweet compared to the stifling darkness. Nothing felt so good as to have her life back. Her heart was thumping loudly in its cage as she kept her eyes closed and took deep breaths.

A second later, she quickly opened them to stare into a pair of grey eyes that glittered silver in the muted light. She tensed immediately when she realised that the warmth was coming from the hands that held her around the waist and shoulder.

"M-Mr Malfoy?" she stuttered, not sure if she was really seeing him. The old Lucius Malfoy wouldn't have even dared to dream of something so radical as to lay hands on a Muggleborn.

"Your eyes… Are they always brown?" he asked quietly, making Hermione start even more. Had he gone mad as well?

"Y-yes."

"They were yellow a moment ago," Lucius explained thoughtfully as he slowly released her and the bubble of soothing warmth faded into cold reality while Hermione felt a slight disappointment.

"Did you see her?" Hermione asked quietly, locking her gaze onto his and not daring to look at the corners of the room.

"There is no one here besides you and me," he murmured while his gaze passed searchingly over her. "It is all in your mind."

"She was here," Hermione pressed on, eyes flickering around uneasily to locate the dreaded shadow of the madwoman who tortured her day in and day out.

"No one is here," Lucius said firmly, standing back and looking down at her sharply. "Close off your mind."

"How?" Hermione murmured faintly, only just hearing him.

"Let go of all your emotions," he replied in an exemplary voice of unmoved indifference.

"I – I can't…" Hermione whispered miserably as she clutched the edges of the bed sheets and pulled them protectively around her shivering body. "I can't forget… I tried to kill him…"

Lucius didn't even attempt to quieten her feverish mutterings of guilt and betrayal, but felt a flicker of irritation at the girl's incompetence in the field of being emotionless. Hermione continued to stare into nothingness as she berated herself and poured forth quiet words of harsh abuse to herself. She was completely grief-stricken, but she couldn't mourn as her tears were frozen in absolute shock. Her mind was empty of any other thoughts except deep regret and anguish while her heart was losing its beat.

"You need to get some sleep," Lucius said to her at last when she continued to ignore his presence and talk to herself. Hermione slowly turned to look up at him, surprised to see him there and confused by everything.

"Draco?"

"Lucius actually," he corrected with a small sigh. She always seemed to be thinking of that horrible night at the Manor and her frequent mentions of his son did nothing to help him forget it.

"Lucius?" Hermione repeated, a small frown creasing her brow. "That sounds like Luficer," she added in a weak voice, her eyes clouding over with dazedness.

"Yes it does," Lucius agreed, having decided that she wasn't mentally healthy at the moment. "And you need to sleep."

"Did you know Lucifer was an angel?" Hermione murmured dazedly, staring off into space. Lucius raised an eyebrow at her, but she obviously didn't notice who she was talking to. "He was an angel who grew too proud and challenged the heavens."

Lucius didn't make any comment on the strange story she had suddenly decided to tell him, but bent over her to gently push her down into the lying position. It seemed he was going to have to do the work since she didn't want to listen to his orders. As he moved her about, he grimaced with habitual disgust at having to deal with someone who stood for a thing he had opposed all his life. He struggled to put aside his beliefs and not just leave the girl to fret on her own. His own life depended on the extent of his aid as the Vow held him to his word.

This humiliation he was feeling at dealing with the Muggleborn was an unfamiliar feeling and he thoroughly despised the state he had been reduced to. He was simply glad that the Granger girl was in no state to recognise and remember this small act of obligatory thoughtfulness as he pulled the covers neatly over her.

"Do you believe in angels?" Hermione asked him suddenly, sounding rather like her friend Luna Lovegood in her dreamy condition.

"Excuse me?" Lucius said, completely thrown out of depth by the sudden question.

"Do you believe in angels? Because I saw one. I saw one when I was about to drown and he saved me…"

"You weren't drowning, Miss Granger –" Lucius started to correct her, but she wasn't listening to him.

"He chased away the shadows. All the horrid cold went away when he came. I felt so safe," she murmured sleepily as she turned her head a fraction to gaze at him. Lucius felt unnerved by her words, but hid his confusion with his usual look of impassivity and gazed back without a single falter.

"My angel of darkness… He saved me…"

"Did he now…" Lucius drawled indifferently, not really caring who this supposed angel was. As long as she thought she was safe, that was his job done.

"He's still here… He will look after me."

"Well then, I'll leave him to it, shall I?" Lucius asked, trying very hard to keep the mocking tone out of his voice and just about succeeding. He was always in control and this was just another moment where he steered the situation to his own advantage.

"No! Don't go! I don't want her to come back!" Hermione cried in sudden wild-eyed fear, jerking upright in bed and switching immediately from the sleepy, dazed Hermione to the frightened, traumatised girl who was scared of the dark.

"I thought you said your angel will protect you," Lucius said lazily in a bored tone while Hermione glanced around nervously.

"Yes, but I need you here as well," Hermione said anxiously while Lucius took a deep breath to calm his irritated nerves.

"Of course, Miss Granger. Now, go to sleep," he commanded her and was surprised to see her obeying without a single word of retort. He drew up a chair besides her bed like the night when he had watched her sleep after the death of her animal. She had slept deeply and without any apparent disturbance that night and he could only hope that she would do the same again. He sat down and prepared for another night of staring into the darkness and thinking of nothing.

He flexed his muscles slightly to settle down and felt a flare of surprise tear through him when a hand grabbed his arm that had lightly brushed against the bed. Turning his head, he saw the girl with her eyes closed, clutching his forearm as if it were her anchor. He thought about pulling away, but when he gave a gentle tug, Hermione didn't seem to want to relinquish her grip on him.

With another grimace, he sat back with one arm extended on the bed so that Hermione was still holding onto it like a source of comfort and laying her head on his hand like a pillow. He was grateful beyond words that it was dark and no one was here to witness the painfully soppy scene. Had it been light, he would have probably lost his patience and struck her over the head with his cane. He certainly wasn't above hitting an impudent creature like her if she continued to behave like she did.

As if to annoy him even more, the slumbering girl mumbled something in her sleep and pulled his arm closer so that his hand was buried in her messy bush of hair and he was forced to clench his teeth and tolerate it all. If anything was character-building, it was having a Muggleborn treat him like some kind of pillow.

After tonight, Lucius sincerely hoped that he would never ever have to go this near the girl again. There was only so much he could abide and his tolerance had limits. He might be a changed man, but he hadn't changed enough to handle the closeness of the girl.

For once in his life, he looked forwards to the coming of daylight when he could escape his own discomfort. Looking over at the sleeping face of Hermione, he tried to scowl, but didn't entirely succeed as he took in the expression of grey weariness that had settled over her relaxed face. It reminded him of Draco; his son had looked just like that when Lucius had watched him sleeping in the morning after the ending of the war. It was the look of one who had gone through too much in too little time. Seeing Draco like that had made him feel more regret and shame in his life than he had ever felt in his entire existence. He had pitied his son, and now, he inevitably felt the same for the helpless little individual clutching his arm.

Perhaps he wasn't such a stranger to this feeling of pity after all.

14\. Reborn

Hermione woke to the bright sunlight of a late autumn morning that streamed through the windows of her bedroom. Someone had drawn back the curtains and the radiant light was blinding her sleepy eyes. Scrunching up her face to avoid burning her retinas, she slowly rolled over in her bed to face the closed door. With slow blinks, she looked at the empty chair besides her bed and frowned. Why was it there?

She closed her eyes as she thought back. Flickering memories of terrible events flashed past her eyes in short bursts, filling her ears with terrible, terrible screaming that caused all her muscles to contract and her gut to twist.

"No…" she murmured feverishly as she tried to open her eyes and wake from the horrendous nightmare of an unforgivable act, but she couldn't tear herself away from the wild pale blue eyes that swam before her mind's eye, irises webbed with unimaginable agony as the scream pierced all her senses. His scream.

"NO!" she shouted as she jerked bolt upright in her bed and her eyes snapped open again. She was panting for breath as if she had run a mile and couldn't get the horrifying images of blood and pain out of her mind. Even as her pulse slowed to its normal rate, her mind was racing with the same guilt-ridden mantra from the night before. I tried to kill him.

It felt like another bad dream. Hermione couldn't decipher whether the previous night's events had truly happened. But something in her mind told her that it was all very real, even if she couldn't remember everything.

After taking a few calming breaths, she slowly gazed around her immediate surroundings and was suddenly filled with deep sadness. The warm sunlight and sweetness of an innocent morning made a song of lament strike up in her heart as she watched the world revolve around her like nothing had happened. It had been the same with the death of Crookshanks; life had gone on as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

But what an illusion to believe in! How could the sun still shine on her when she was tainted with deep sin? How could there still be innocence in the air when she had lost all of it the previous night? How could the world go on? She had tried to kill her best friend and dearest love…

"Forgive me," she whispered to the still air, curling her legs up so that she was balled up against the headboard of the large four-poster bed. Several tears seeped out of her sore eyes as she gazed at the unrealistic beams of light gushing through the long windows and smiling at her with no empathy whatsoever. She wanted the world to acknowledge her loss. She wanted the black veil of mourning to fall upon the rest of mankind. How could life go on when such black betrayal stained her hands and love had lost another pair it had once claimed?

"Let him forgive me, please…" she pleaded in a desperate whisper to the frozen air, her tears thickening and pouring in salty streams down her rosy cheeks. The grief that couldn't be expressed the night before, now suddenly overwhelmed her and she was overcome with deep anguish at her loss. This time, she had not only lost the chance to be one with Ron, she had also lost their great friendship. She was certain his trust in her had vanished and she couldn't blame him. Who would trust her with her being possessed?

That reminded her that she couldn't remember much of last night except the short reflections of vague memories. The one image she could clearly picture was the look of utter betrayal on Ron's face as she swung her arm in the first stroke that was to claim his blood. It pained her beyond words to recall that look of unbearable shock and agony blossom on his face. On his sweet, innocent face.

She felt besmirched and dirtied by the deeds of pure evil. She detested herself for the feel of impure darkness that fell about her in ample folds and swathed her in invisible robes of unforgivable iniquity. Despite the certain irony that she, the pure one, had fallen into such darkness, Hermione couldn't even smile at the nastiness of the situation.

She had been possessed. The patches of blank darkness in her archive of memories proved that. She could barely recall what had happened after the calamity with Ron. She faintly remembered Harry saying something to her and Lucius telling her to do something.

Lucius!

He had brought her up here again and then she had lost herself in her fears once more. She didn't remember quite what had happened but something told her that she had had another deathly experience that involved the familiar visions of dead faces and hands pulling at her. Her body also remembered the twinges of clammy skin all too well and she shivered to even think of it. Yet, there had been warmth coming from somewhere. Comforting warmth that soothed her hysterical anxieties and smoothed away all thoughts of trouble. She had felt the presence of some angel or other higher being who had protected her.

Her mother had always spoken of an angel who would look after her when she was a child. When she had grown older, Hermione had thought it rather sweet of her mum to say that, but angels weren't really there to save you. She would have to do the saving bit herself. However, she had distinctly felt some sort of presence last night. It was as if someone had been watching over her and giving her strength by their warm presence.

Last night, she had felt that presence once again and had gathered some threads of sanity from it. She couldn't remember if Malfoy had been around, but by the location of the chair at her bedside, she could guess that he had once again displayed some uncharacteristic signs of humaneness and had made sure that some other tragedy hadn't befallen her.

With a dull beat of her deadened heart, she slowly climbed out of bed and got dressed without much thought, mind trapped in other places. Her range of emotions had narrowed down to grief, anguish and guilt that wrapped around her in fine mesh that stopped her from feeling anything else. The feelings were so intense, that she couldn't think of anything else.

This was what she should have felt like after the war, but back then, she had had Ron at her side as well as the rest of her friends to support her in return for her encouragement of them. Now, she had lost it all and it felt like her Ron had passed away. She would never forget the look on his face as she stabbed that knife of betrayal into him and lost him with the slashing of his wrist.

There were no more thoughts of angels as Hermione lost herself in her lament.

 

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed as he leapt up from the kitchen table and hurried across the room to pull the blank-faced Hermione into a tight hug. Hermione said nothing as she sank into his warm embrace, but buried her face momentarily into his shoulder. When she slowly pulled away from him, she had dry eyes, but Harry could see the look of deep sorrow in her soulful brown orbs.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked gently, knowing that there was no point in asking how she was feeling. Her expression alone told him what was going on in her heart and mind.

Hermione gave a slight nod before slowly sitting down on one side of the long table and gazing blankly around at the paper lying open in front of her. She caught sight of an extremely beautiful woman whose pale face nonetheless held a haughty expression that dampened her fairness somewhat. Hermione didn't feel remotely surprised even when she read the name beneath the picture.

'Narcissa Malfoy'

She recognised the woman's face properly, now that she actually knew who it was in the picture. She glanced at the article with disinterest and picked up the general gist of it as she scanned the paragraphs. Narcissa Malfoy was running house on her own with her husband away on some mysterious business that the minister was apparently keeping away from the public.

Hermione didn't feel the slightest bit surprised at the article but only felt mildly relieved that the world hadn't been informed of Lucius Malfoy's current whereabouts and his tasks at hand. It was a matter that she preferred to keep private.

"Here you go," Harry said, coming over to sit opposite her and handing her a cup of fresh tea which he himself had made. Somehow, he had deemed it necessary for him to make it, rather than Kreacher who had nevertheless been eager to offer his services to his master.

"Thanks," Hermione replied quietly as she received the cup and absent-mindedly blew over the surface of the hot drink. She didn't notice Harry watching her with a frown of worry, but continued to sit motionless like a dead being as she sipped at her tea. She felt numb with shock and grief. Her lament was silent and contained, yet Harry could see that the pain was flowing out of her heart in such vast quantities that she wasn't being herself in the slightest. Following the line of her gaze, his eyes fell upon the picture of Narcissa.

"Mr Malfoy refused my offer for him to make a visit to his family and home. Rather odd, don't you think?" Harry asked Hermione, trying to distract her with something completely out of her sphere of thought.

"Probably," Hermione replied in a quiet murmur, too weary of life to offer anything greater. Harry looked up sharply at her unusual response and cocked his head slightly to one side to consider her better.

"Ron's fine," he said suddenly in what he thought to be a reassuring voice. At the sound of her beloved's name, Hermione jerked upright and stared at him with wide eyes.

"He – He is?" she asked in a strained whisper, behaving most oddly in Harry's eyes. He wasn't used to seeing the bossy know-it-all acting so withdrawn and it pained him to see his friend so inverted with misery.

"Yeah. He's fine now. They're keeping him at St. Mungo's for a bit as the blade of the knife was poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Hermione repeated faintly, looking as though she might pass away at the thought.

"Yeah…" Harry confirmed, watching her carefully for signs of anything even more unusual than the state she was already in.

"It's all my fault…" she said in a barely audible whisper, eyes staring at some spot on the wall as her hands lay clasped together on the table, her knuckles white.

"No, Hermione," Harry interrupted briskly in a firm voice. "Nothing was your fault. You were being possessed."

"It's my fault for being so weak…" Hermione continued as if she hadn't heard him.

"Hermione!" Harry said loudly, reaching over to grab both her hands in his like the night before and squeeze until her large, doleful eyes swivelled back to him. "There was nothing you could have done! You were being possessed by a terrible spirit! You are not to blame!"

"I was so weak… Forgive me…" she murmured dazedly as her eyes wandered from the determined face of Harry and gazed off towards the empty fireplace down the other end of the room. Harry heaved a heavy sigh as he watched her, at his wits end with how to convince her she was not to blame. He knew that mere words weren't going to bring her out of her unreachable state, yet all he could do was try and talk her back into reality.

"Look, Hermione; you need to listen to me carefully because I'm going to –" he started, when the door to the kitchen swung open and the intimidating, tall figure of Lucius strode in, indifferent face remaining impassive when his cold gaze fell upon the unfocused Hermione.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," he drawled in his usual bored tone while Hermione didn't even turn to look at him.

"When did you come back?" she asked in a hazy voice.

"I don't believe I went anywhere," Lucius replied in an unbothered tone while Harry glanced between the two of them in apparent confusion. He could never follow the line of conversation between Lucius and Hermione and suspected that the two unlikely people shared something that formed a strange sort of understanding between them; much like him and Voldemort. He had realised that Ron felt the similar vibes that rebounded around the pureblood on his road to reformation and the Muggleborn in her direction to darkness.

Harry had suspected Ron felt jealousy at the strange link between the ex-Death Eater and their dear friend Hermione, and hadn't been surprised by the display of possessiveness in the form of a kiss the day before. But the sudden break-up between his two best friends had caught him off guard. He was brought back into the present moment by the quite voice of Hermione.

"You went away," she murmured, raising her head slowly to look at Lucius with a face that didn't change in its lamenting expression.

"And perhaps I did," the blond wizard answered indifferently.

"What happened last night?" she asked in veiled curiosity, unable to express her usual determination to find an answer to her question. There was a long pause from Lucius as he realised with great relief that she didn't remember a thing about the more awkward aspects of the night before. He wasn't sure if he wanted to even tell her anything that might illuminate her. He could tell she was a very broken spirit; he had seen that look on many a face during his stay in Azkaban. He was sure he had once worn that mask also, when hope had seemed to have deserted him. Now, looking at Hermione, he felt obliged to somehow provide an answer that would satisfy her grievous mind. It seemed like the only polite thing to do.

"Potter, kindly leave us for a moment," he said without removing his gaze from Hermione's eyes. Harry cast him a wary glance before leaving the room reluctantly. Once the door had closed behind him, Lucius breathed deeply while Hermione continued to gaze up at him expectantly.

"You asked me to stay," he said at last, having decided to keep the explanation as brief and vague as possible.

"And did you?" Hermione asked immediately in her new tone of apparent deadness.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it is my job," Lucius replied uncaringly before he walked past her and headed towards the comfort of the armchairs by the unlit fireside. Hermione watched him go before lowered her eyes to observe the picture of his wife in the paper again.

"She looks very intelligent," she remarked quietly while Lucius looked up from his chair to pinpoint the object of Hermione's comment.

"She is," he agreed, having realised that she was looking at the photo of Narcissa in that morning's paper. He himself had been the first to read it and surprised to find an article about the mysterious ways of the Malfoy family. He had scoffed at the still remaining foolishness and inaptitude of the Prophet and had flicked past it without a second thought.

"Do you miss her?" Hermione asked without reserve, forgetting in her dazed state, the rules that applied to asking questions that were too personal.

"I do not believe that that is an appropriate question to ask, Miss Granger," Lucius remarked in slight reprimanding, glad to get out of the awkward question without actually having disclose an answer. In truth, he didn't really miss Narcissa much as he wasn't attached to her like he was to Draco. She may be the mother of his son and his wife, but that was as far as it went.

"She's very beautiful," Hermione continued, much to Lucius' annoyance. He didn't want to discuss his wife, especially with some foolish young woman whom he was feeling angry at because of what he had been forced to tolerate the night before.

"Yes, she is," he said curtly, hoping that the conversation would end there.

"Do you love her?"

"I beg your pardon?" Lucius asked in surprise, completely caught off guard by the sudden question and failing to hide his surprise for a split second.

"Do you love her?" Hermione repeated, eyes lifting away from the picture to meet Lucius' darkened gaze.

"Why would I love her?" he replied slowly, eyeing the girl warily.

"Because she is very beautiful and she's your wife," Hermione responded simply. Lucius gave a mirthless laugh at the stupidity of the words and fixed Hermione with a sharp look.

"I don't believe in beauty," he said offhandedly while Hermione looked barely surprised. Once upon a time, such a radical answer coming from a staunchly supercilious man like him would have caused her eyes to pop out from her head and her mouth to fall open like a trap, but now, she was filled with too much shock from the night before to feel any more jolts of surprise. Everything that she noticed outside of her, she took in with detached indifference.

"Why?" she asked, mildly curious to find the answer. Lucius gave her a strange look as he realised she wasn't acting her usual behaviour and he wasn't sure whether this new Hermione was an improvement or not.

"Because there is nothing in beauty but the surface layer," he explained in his calm manner, observing her with a sharp eye and reluctantly admitting that he approved of this quiet, reserved Hermione much more than the fighting, irritating girl from the day before.

"That's strange. I wouldn't have expected someone like you to say that…" Hermione said dully while Lucius was drawn to studying her, fascinated by her dead tone despite his unwillingness to admit it. She looked so withdrawn and almost lifeless in her ways that he was surprised she was still talking.

"Why does that surprise you, Miss Granger?" he asked, urging her on, simply to observe her behaviour as she talked.

"Because you always struck me as someone who believes in outer beauty. Both you and Draco seemed quite superficial to me," she replied in unintentional bluntness.

"How kind of you," Lucius sneered while Hermione slowly raised her lowered head so that she could meet his gaze again.

"You always look so immaculate. I could only presume you saw only the top layer of things."

"As flattering as it is to be called immaculate, I can assure you, Miss Granger, that I do see beyond what is there before my eyes," Lucius said carelessly.

"Then don't you love your wife?" Hermione pressed on while Lucius barely managed to suppress the urge to roll his eyes.

"Why would I love her? Because she is beautiful and intelligent?" Lucius said dryly.

"Yes."

"Miss Granger, strangely enough, I am not a man who takes those two virtues and weaves them into more illusions," Lucius stated matter-of-factly, earning him a curious look from Hermione.

"Love isn't an illusion," she argued back, although from the tone of her voice, it sounded rather feeble.

"The whole world is an illusion, Miss Granger. Life itself is full of nothing more than illusions and misled dreams," Lucius answered indifferently, barely glancing over at the thoughtful Hermione who was pondering his theories with a lot more acceptance than her past self would have done.

"But if it's an illusion, why does it hurt so much?" she asked at last, her voice toned down to a weak whisper. Lucius looked up at her sharply and had an unpleasant feeling that this was going to be another conversation full of supposed morals and beliefs.

"Because you let yourself believe in it," he replied with as much patience as he could muster.

"But if I don't believe in it, then what is there to live for?" Hermione continued, looking at him with confused eyes. She felt like she didn't know this man sitting before her. She couldn't remember when she and Lucius Malfoy had passed the point of death glares and declarations of hate. It was extremely surreal to think that they were having a decent conversation that actually held some meaning.

"That is for you to find out," Lucius responded in his usual cold voice, maintaining his uncaring manner in order to remain detached from the inquisitive girl. He knew if he responded too much, she would continue bombarding him with questions, and there was a definite limit to his patience.

"Why didn't you go home?" Hermione asked abruptly, her manner continuing to be forthright in a way her old self would have been careful to veil.

"Excuse me?" Lucius said, raising one blond brow in a trademark characteristic that made his arrogant expression all too complete on his well-crafted, aristocratic face.

"Harry said you turned down his offer to visit your family and home."

"And so if I did?" Lucius drawled coldly, as if daring her to challenge his choice.

"It's just odd," Hermione stated matter-of-factly. "I would have leapt at the chance to go back home," she murmured thoughtfully.

"Perhaps it has not occurred to you, Miss Granger, that we are in entirely different family situations?" Lucius said in a bored voice.

"Yes, I suppose…" she agreed most cordially, much to the older wizard's surprise. He could learn to live with this girl if she remained so docile the whole time. It would be much easier to deal with her then. Hermione, herself hadn't realised how different she was behaving, although she knew she wasn't feeling like her old self. She felt completely drained of spirit. Crushed. Broken.

The long silence was interrupted by Harry coming back into the room to quickly glance at the two unlikely conversationalists, wondering if both had come out of the discussion unscathed. Judging by the way Lucius was sitting with a bored expression on his smooth face and Hermione gazing blankly at the wall; Harry could safely assume that no bombs had gone off.

"Hermione, I need to go to work, but I'll be back later," he told his friend as she slowly looked up at him at the sound of his familiar voice.

"Harry, can I go see my parents?" she asked, mind having been constantly whirring around the subject since her last talk with Lucius.

"Well… I don't think that would be the best idea…" Harry said tentatively, feeling distinctly apprehensive in case she regained her usual fire and started shouting indignant words at him. To his surprise, she did nothing but look a little sadder.

"Okay…" she said quietly in acceptance while Harry began panicking at the strange quietude of her broken spirit.

"Look, once everything's cleared up with this curse stuff, you'll be able to see them as much as you want for as long as you want," he said in an uplifting manner in a vain attempt to cheer her up. "You know I wouldn't want to keep you away from them unless it was absolutely necessary."

"Yes. I don't want to try and kill them as well."

Her words were chillingly shocking and it sent cold shivers down Harry's spine to hear her mirthless voice attempt irony. Instead of sounding remotely funny, her words were like cold nails in the door that scratched at human life like the dead trying to return. Suppressing a shudder, Harry forced a smile on his face and hoped that she would come out of her state. He wished he had time to sit down with her and help her work her way out of her great trauma, but life demanded for him to return to work. He looked at her with great sympathy as he himself knew what it was like to be tormented by terrible dreams without others able to understand him.

"I'll be back later," he said to her with a reassuring smile. Hermione gave him a small nod that let him know she had heard him. With a heavy sigh, Harry left the house to go to work.

Even after he was gone, Hermione wasn't sure if her senses were fooling her, but she felt like he was still there. Looking around, she only saw a pale hand on the arm of an armchair that had been turned so that its back was facing her. She knew who was sitting in the chair, but her logic was lost in her vague state and she couldn't quite remember if their conversation had been real.

Feeling terribly lonely, she decided after a moment's thought that even sitting with Lucius Malfoy as company couldn't be as bad as having her own guilty mind for companion. Without a word of warning, she walked over to the empty fireside and sat down in a neighbouring armchair while she felt Lucius' eyes following her. Turning to look at him, she saw the narrowed grey orbs carefully studying her.

"You are rather quiet, Miss Granger. Might I point out how unusual that is?" he said in slow, lazy tones while Hermione didn't feel like making a fuss.

"I feel tired," she replied simply, knowing that it wasn't actually a matter of feeling weary. Her other emotions were overriding her system completely, but she knew Lucius would probably be far from interested to hear a detailed analysis of herself.

"I have no doubt of it," he replied in agreement, which did make a small spark of her usual irritation flare up within her as she realised he was probably alluding to her greyed face. But that small flicker of the old Hermione died as quickly as it had come and before she could pull a face, she was back to square one of her depression.

"I've never tried to kill someone before," she state in a stultified tone.

"I have no doubt of that either," Lucius said.

"I feel so exhausted…" Hermione admitted in a weak voice, feeling lifeless and drained of all energy. She could barely look up to gauge his reaction, but managed to notice the small frown that came and went on his face.

"You are too emotional," he said in an almost reprimanding tone, gazing at her with hardened eyes. "You let yourself fall prey to your own fears if you are out of control. It is no wonder that you were possessed last night."

"It's not my fault," Hermione said in an attempt at a whine, but it came out as more of a dreary whisper.

"I never said it was, Miss Granger," Lucius replied coolly, his polite manner always evident when she hinted of accusations against him for pointing out her many flaws. "However, I do think you should do something about it."

"Like what?"

"Did you never learn Occlumency at school?" he asked her, mildly surprised that such a bright witch might have had no training in such an important skill.

"No. That was Harry," Hermione replied flatly, a little of her envy at her friend's extra education flowing out of her along with her dampened spirit. She had always tried to remain happy for Harry that he had learnt all sorts of new skills due to his position in the wizarding world and being under Dumbledore's wing, but she could never quite get rid of the feeling of slight jealousy at his fortunate opportunities she would have been to glad to have.

"Perhaps it is time you learn…" Lucius suggested while a small sense of life returned to Hermione at the mention of learning something new.

"But Professor Snape's dead," she said with a frown.

"And for a supposedly intelligent witch, you are not making such a convincing impression on me," Lucius sneered. "Severus Snape wasn't the only Occlumens the world ever saw."

"But he was the best," Hermione said in her defence.

"Perhaps, but would you like to be taught by a portrait who would most likely spend his entire time taunting you and looking down at you?" Lucius elaborated, making Hermione stop in her tracks to re-examine her new reverence for the old potions master.

"Well, it's not like you would do a better job," she replied sullenly while Lucius tried not to look offended.

"And why would that be?" he asked coldly, wondering if he should withdraw any preposition he had been about to make.

"Because you always taunt me and look down at me," Hermione said in sulky explanation. She really wasn't feeling her best and the thought of another Malfoy making her life even more worse than it already was, made her feel unduly depressed.

"I beg to differ," Lucius said icily. "I would never waste my time on such useless pastimes, no matter how much my own son enjoyed them."

"Then you won't want to waste your precious time on me anyways, so what are you trying to get at?" Hermione asked, her depressed mood easily transforming into quivering anger that coursed through her. His words were making her feel low and unwanted in her dejected condition. Did he really have to point out that I am a piece of nothing? I already know that! I am worthless! Ron hates me so I am as good as nothing!

"I was actually going to offer to teach you the art of Occlumency, but I may have changed my mind, seeing as you're proving to do be a rather difficult individual," Lucius drawled with contempt while Hermione suddenly sat up at his words and looked at him with wide eyes.

"Oh no! Please, teach me!" she implored with big eyes, devastated by the news that she might miss her only chance of truly learning such a great skill. Lucius felt a tingle of amusement at her sudden change of tune, but showed nothing but disdain on his outer mask.

"Pleading with me will get you nowhere, Miss Granger," he said with an unpleasant sneer while Hermione looked like she might hyperventilate any moment.

"Please, please, please! I promise I won't be difficult! Please! You don't know how much I need to learn Occlumency!" Hermione begged him, not even noticing how her old self would have scoffed at the mere idea of begging Lucius Malfoy for anything.

"As a matter of fact, I do know how much you need the skill, Miss Granger. I would not have made such a suggestion otherwise," Lucius said haughtily, loving the feeling of holding all the power. The small flicker of hope that flitted across the girl's face made him unable to hide a smirk as he revelled in the sweet embrace of power. He could do this all day.

"Please…" Hermione pleaded with her great big brown eyes looking at him desperately, having forgotten who he was and what he stood for. All she saw was the chance to learn something she had wanted to learn since fifth-year.

"Yes, it may be quite a helpful tool for the both of us," Lucius said thoughtfully, deliberately slowing his decision so that he could enjoy the look of scornful hopefulness on the girl's face. "You would learn to shut off your mind, which in turn would save me the trouble of having to shut it off for you."

Hermione didn't even rise to the bait as Lucius indirectly insulted her with her ineptness at detaching herself from her many emotions. Instead, she continued to look at him with hope in her eyes as she realised this could be a one-way ticket to a better situation. As she gazed desperately at the arrogant face of the smirking wizard, she noticed a strange glimmer in his usually cold, steely eyes and wondered what he was feeling. But the moment passed and she brushed away all thoughts of Lucius' strange look as he had regained his usual frosty composure.

"Miss Granger, you may consider yourself lucky that I am going to teach you Occlumency," Lucius said in a patronising manner while Hermione let out a long breath she had held in and cracked a smile for the first time. She didn't know why she felt so much more healed at hearing him tell her that she was to be in theory, his student. Her previous self would have freaked out and told him she would go nowhere near him in a million years. But now, in her shattered state, she felt a small amount of warmth flood back into her frozen veins as she realised she had something to do.

Despite his intentions to teach her having been completely different from her own agenda; for Hermione, it was a promise full of hope. The life was gradually flowing back into her cold body and her black mood was slowly lifting. She felt like she was being enlivened by the thought of learning. Education had always been the key to her heart and even receiving tutoring from the likes of Lucius Malfoy made her feel happy.

With a smile still lighting up her darkened face, she looked up at Lucius and gave him the deepest look of gratitude she could summon up as he had essentially saved her, although he probably knew nothing about it.

"Thank you," she said in a hushed voice while Lucius gave a small incline of his head to signal his acceptance. When she continued to smile as if she had been hit with unimaginable bliss, a growing alarm crept over him. It was a good start that a student was enthusiastic to learn as it would undoubtedly make it easier, but he wasn't sure why the Granger girl would be feeling so ecstatic about learning from him. She might be a complete bookworm and learning maniac, but he was sure there was more to her smile than just that.

Being a man of high perception, he could see that her expression looked awfully like prisoners in Azkaban who were released and breathed in freedom with almost manic smiles. Something told him that teaching the girl was going to be…interesting to say the least. She had looked so dead only minutes ago, but now, at his words, she was almost bouncing with joy.

With a cold smile, he thought of another debt that she owed him. He had brought meaning back into her life without actually intending to, but he was still glad of the advantage it gave him. His habit of being an opportunist was hard to break, and he couldn't help exploiting the situation to as best he could. He would save this little rebirth of Hermione Granger for another day when he might need to give her a little reminder of the service he had done her.

Hermione, herself was secretly glad that the hated man had actually rekindled the flame of life within her. She felt a little like her old self, but a better version. She was going to learn to be less emotional and learn to control herself like Lucius. She was going to learn to maintain a calm composure like him and retain it always. She was going to learn, learn, learn…

She had been reborn…


	8. VIII

15\. A Hard Teacher

Hermione shifted her weight nervously from foot to foot as she gripped her wand tightly and tried to keep calm. She was standing in the middle of the drawing room with a tingle of anticipation circling up her spine as she watched Lucius move the more prominent furniture in the room against the walls with casual flicks of his wand. If he was trying to show off his aptitude using a wand, he was doing it rather well as Hermione had firmly decided that the general suspicion that Malfoy senior was a skilled wizard was no longer myth. Her eyes followed his movements skittishly, unable to look away as a feeling of impending doom swept over her.

Harry had talked to her and Ron about his Occlumency lessons with Snape and had said enough to let Hermione form the idea that having one's mind invaded was not a particularly pleasant event. Considering that her supposed teacher was an ex-Death Eater and a wizard renowned for his interest in the Dark Arts, she could only hope for the worst.

The chance of learning Occlumency from a skilled wizard had seemed so inviting a little while ago, but after she had finished her lunch, it had struck her that having Lucius Malfoy as a tutor might not be the best thing in her life.

She stopped her feverish musings when Lucius finished his clearing of the room and turned back to her. She noticed his wand and even as she quivered inside in habitual intimidation, she couldn't help wonder how such a slim, slender piece of light wood could hold so much power. Thinking back to the time when Harry had explained that Voldemort had taken and broken Lucius' wand, she presumed this was his new implement of magic.

"Devonian larch with dragon heartstring," she heard Lucius' voice murmur to himself. "Absolutely beautiful."

She looked up at his impassively-masked face and felt confusion at his unexpected words. She could see that his mercurial grey eyes were trained on the stick of wood in his hand that seemed to have some sort of hold over him. She tilted her head slightly to one side as she frowned at him, unable to fathom what was flickering in his unreadable eyes. After a short moment of watching him study his own wand, she almost gasped in surprise as he suddenly snapped out of his thoughts and swiftly stepped towards her while giving her a patronising look.

"You will be needing your wand, Miss Granger," he said in his calm, horribly polite manner which often deceived a frustrated Hermione to the point of her actually believing he was a humane individual with nothing but money and a snobbish, drawling accent.

Hermione made no retort as she nervously licked her lips and withdrew her own wand made of vine, the 10¾" length not too long or short, but just right in her hand. She knew that the core of her wand was also dragon heartstring, but saw nothing that could be reassuring in that fact. She slowly raised her wand in a ready stance and waited with great apprehension, wondering just what she had got herself into.

"I trust you know exactly what to do, seeing as you have probably read every book on earth?" Lucius drawled in his haughty voice as he eyed her wand with scrutiny before raising his gaze to pierce her icily.

"Um… Not – Not on Occlumency," Hermione said grudgingly, hating to admit the fact that she had neglected reading up extensively on this particular skill of much importance. From the look on Lucius' face, she could safely presume that her answer wasn't the one he had been expecting.

"Goodness… Has the Revelation come so soon?" Lucius mused out loud as he slowly raised his wand and came to stand a metre or so away from her. "The bookworm has failed to read anything on Occlumency?"

"I have read about it!" Hermione said hotly in protest, some of her old fire returning as she defended herself. "I just never had the chance to read further into it."

"There is no need to lose your temper about it," Lucius stated immediately with a patronizing stare that made Hermione cringe as she realised how childish she had just been.

"Fine," she said stiffly, mentally berating herself for allowing the fifteen-year-old Hermione to possess her. She was feeling determined to grow up and she was sure the events of the night before had been enough of a wake-up call to jolt her into reality.

"I am glad to see you behaving much more your age," Lucius remarked in approval of her acceptance while he flexed his wand arm slightly, and Hermione inwardly shivered as she kept imagining that he was suddenly going to curse her. It was only a moment later that she realised he had given her a semi-compliment and she should have been feeling proud or flattered for his recognition of her efforts, but she was unable to think of anything else except what he was doing with his wand.

"I think it is wise if you keep your mouth closed as you are doing now," Lucius continued when she said nothing. "It will make it easier for the both of us."

Hermione gave a small nod, her eyes always fixed on that stick of wood that could frazzle her to pieces any moment. Right now, she simply couldn't believe that the former Death Eater and Muggleborn-hater had really changed. Just seeing that wand in his hand had cold fear slithering up her limbs and coiling cruelly around her mind.

"Now then," Lucius said when he realised she had caught onto his rule of not speaking. "I am going to break into your mind and you are allowed to use any sort of minor spell that seems appropriate to repel my attack."

"But how do I defend my mind?" Hermione asked in puzzlement, noticing for herself how foolish she sounded. She watched Lucius for signs of mockery as she was sure he would have noticed her idiotic tone, but she was curiously surprised when he faced her with a completely serious expression.

"Let go of your emotions. You must remain detached," he said calmly in a perfect example of indifference. "Whatever you do, you must not become emotional."

"Right," Hermione said with a nod, feeling doubtful as she said it. She might know all the theories of all the spells in the world, but putting it to practice was harder than expected. She always became nervous when she had to learn Defence Against the Dark Arts spells as she was always afraid of failing. She might be a whiz at Charms and Transfiguration, but somehow, she had never been quite as good as Harry at DADA spells. Being in the student's DADA had boosted her confidence, but all of it seemed to have disappeared as she faced Lucius Malfoy.

"Are you ready, Miss Granger?" Lucius asked in a bored voice, wand hand relaxed and seemingly harmless. Hermione swallowed before giving a firm nod, determined to remain positive. She had decided that a shield charm would probably be the best option as she wasn't sure if a hex would be appreciated at his end. She noticed Lucius giving her an unconvinced look, and she had to give a second nod before he believed her enough to proceed.

"On the count of three, I will cast the spell," Lucius told her as he raised his wand to the right level.

"One."

Hermione began to feel a thin thread of panic sidling through her veins as she felt suddenly jittery. She didn't know why she was feeling so anxious, as the situation was entirely safe, but perhaps it was the idea of someone invading her mind, the one thing that was completely private to her, that made her unduly nervous.

"Two."

She felt her nerves crackle like icy electricity that snapped and jerked in her mind. The sight of her former enemy before her with a raised wand was enough to send her into an uncontrollable mode where flashes of distant but vivid memories raced past her eyes. It reminded her too much of the mad eyes of Bellatrix as she raised her wand to cast the dreaded curse that haunted her still. She couldn't think of anything but the yellow eyes and remember the terrible, terrible pain that always gripped her, even in her dreams. She tried desperately to empty her mind, but the images of horror and anguish refused to go away. She knew that at this rate, Lucius would be able to break into her mind without a single barrier to stop him. She wasn't sure what to do as she waited on edge to hear the sound of the consecutive number that seemed so foreboding to her.

She slowly managed to blink away the tormenting, dark visions when she heard nothing and saw nothing happening. She looked up at the pale face of the older wizard and noticed that he was wearing a veiled look of mild curiosity.

"You are not ready," he told her matter-of-factly when she met his cold eyes.

"I – I can't get her out of my head," Hermione told him with a shudder, tearing her eyes out of his intense gaze to glance fearfully around the room. She heard Lucius take a deep breath and half-understood that her inability to banish her fears was wearing his patience down.

"Miss Granger," he said firmly, causing her to look back up at him. "You need to concentrate. Close off your mind. Forget everything and concentrate on remaining detached."

"Yes," she said with a vigorous nod, his words encouraging her to not give into the madwoman of her nightmares. She was Hermione Granger; a Gryffindor who would never let the Dark side get the better of her. She had faced worse things than a having her mind invaded. Or had she?

"I shall count to three once again," Lucius explained to her while she was resolute on keeping hold of the true Hermione and not giving into her fears.

"One."

It's all okay. Nothing's going to happen. He'll stop if I can't do this.

"Two."

But what happens if he doesn't stop? Can I trust him to have any decency? After all, a mind is a sacred thing and only meant to be experienced by one person… What if he curses me?

"Three. Legilimens!"

At the word, Hermione's view of Lucius whirling his wand hand was completely lost in a swirl of flickering images that flashed past her like some kind of movie; the scenes brilliant and vibrant, but blinking so furiously that she would only just recall the familiar components of it before it would vanish. She could see nothing of the real world as the passing memories slowed down in their interchange of scenes and she had time to fully recognise what was happening in her memories.

She could see a much younger version of herself as her parents came towards her with a beautiful birthday cake… Then, she was nine and scrambling up a low brick wall to get away from her neighbour's pit bull terrier that had somehow escaped from her neighbour's garden and seemed intent on getting a bite of her… Then there was a sudden gust that blew down the red leaves of a lone tree in the grounds of a large castle. She could see an eleven-year-old Hermione laughing and chatting with two young boys who were unmistakeably Harry and Ron… Scenes from her younger years at the dear old school sped past, and Hermione wished that they would go slower so that she could enjoy the memory…

She stumbled back a few steps when everything vanished and she was suddenly standing in the drawing room with one irritated-looking Malfoy. She felt herself redden in embarrassment at her plain failure to close off her mind or fight off the spell.

"And I suppose that's what you call being emotionally detached?" Lucius commented coolly, obviously displeased with his new student's first attempt. Hermione felt her own nerves grate in annoyance at the disdainful expression that arched over his arrogant face. Seeing him so clearly unsympathetic and scornful of her, made Hermione want to prove that she was actually capable of anything he set her.

"Again," she said fiercely through clenched teeth, balling up her fists and clutching her wand tightly. "Try it again."

"Remain detached," Lucius reminded her coldly as he resumed his stance.

"One."

I will not break. I will not be weak. I will fight him back. 

"Two."

I'll show him what I can do! I'll wipe that arrogant sneer off his face before you can say 'Three'.

"Three. Legilimens!"

Again, the images began reeling past Hermione's eyes until her sight was blinded by them, and she was unable to see the long mane of white-blond hair or the expectant face of Lucius. She was much more aware this time of the power of the spell as it rippled through her in overwhelming waves that were becoming harder and harder to fight against. She struggled to shut off her mind and think of a spell to counter the intruding spell, but she was swiftly distracted as a distinct memory flashed before her eyes.

"Hey, Bucktooth!" 

The ten-year-old Hermione spun around to face three young girls marching towards her. All of them were leering at her with their pretty faces and Hermione could see that they were in her Muggle primary school playground.

"Where's your mum and dad? I bet they're late 'cause they don't want you! I bet they're not gonna come!"

The girls started sniggering as the younger Hermione fled from them, dropping her school satchel on the way and fumbling to pick it all up while the bullies laughed harder…

She was suddenly staring at Lucius with watery eyes, remembering the pain of being bullied in her younger years. Her few years at a primary school hadn't been happy for her, and it was only when she went to Hogwarts that she found the true meaning of happiness.

"Foolish Muggles…" Lucius remarked with distaste while Hermione wasn't quite sure if she was supposed to contend that comment. Was he sticking up for her against the memory of the bullies? Or was he just reinforcing the statement that he hated Muggles?

"You weren't supposed to see that," Hermione said as she hurriedly blinked back her tears, feeling flushed with embarrassment at her secret past. Not even Ron or Harry knew about her time before she met them at Hogwarts.

"Oh really? I would never have guessed," Lucius replied dismissively while Hermione scowled at his sarcasm.

"You're being very–" she started with irritation, but was cut off by Lucius.

"Are you ready to resume your efforts?" Lucius enquired curtly to prevent her from starting on another one of her rants. Hermione sighed as she felt her irrational rage die down and an empty feeling fill her.

"Yes," she replied automatically, although she knew that she was actually in an emotionally weakened state. She wasn't going to be able to fend him off at this stage. Lucius cleared his throat before he calmly raised his wand yet again.

"One."

Keep calm and detached. Calm and detached.

"Two."

Calm and detached. Calm and detached. Oh, no, I can't do this – 

"Three. Legilimens!"

Hermione fought to raise her wand shoot a spell, but the strength of the invading spell was too hard to overcome. She struggled with herself as her vision was clouded by vivid, flashing memories once more. She gritted her teeth as she tried to ignore the pictures and shut off her mind. She could feel a hand of iron willpower that seemed to dig around her mind and throw up her entire archives of memories.

Harry and Ron playing Quidditch at the Burrow… Punching a shocked Draco in the face… Watching Buckbeak fly away with Sirius on his back… The Dark Mark in the sky…

"Enough!"

Hermione jerked on her feet as Lucius released his power over her mind and looked at her with budding impatience.

"You are not trying hard enough!" Lucius barked in barely restrained irritation. Hermione wondered if some of it was to do with seeing proof that a Muggleborn could beat Draco at everything; including fighting.

"I am!" Hermione argued back instinctively, feeling her anger return as she tried to deny the truth in his words.

"If you were, you would not be showing me all those memories of yours," Lucius replied with an edge in his usually smooth voice. She noted that his calm composure was nothing but a thin mask that fell away whenever his repressed anger happened to make itself known. She now knew that he wasn't entirely emotionless; even if he couldn't feel love, at least he could feel anger.

"I am trying!" she said with distress as she made frustrated gestures with her hands. "It's just so much harder to actually do what you're telling me to do!"

"Stop talking like a child," Lucius chided her frostily. "You must break that habit of tantrums. After all, you are hardly an infant anymore."

"Ten out of ten for observations," Hermione muttered in irritated misery.

"And sarcasm will not help," Lucius said to her sharply while she tried to concentrate. Somehow, being taught with his rigid methods was unfamiliar and aggravating for Hermione and it was hard to learn anything when she couldn't even understand the teacher, let alone the subject.

"I suppose you're sarcastic enough for the both of us," Hermione shot back while she saw a flash of something dangerous in his frighteningly stormy eyes.

"Miss Granger, I am warning you," he said in a low voice that radiated a threatening tone. "Any more smart remarks and I cannot guarantee that this lesson will be entirely…safe for you."

"Is that a threat?" Hermione squeaked in a strained voice, her earlier fear of him returning as she stared up at him in shock.

"A warning, but call it what you will," Lucius said in a such a suddenly casual manner, that it scared Hermione. She had no doubt that his 'warning' would be more than just hollow threats. She fully believed that the man had yet to let go of his ruthless ways.

"Now; I want you to concentrate and not get distracted," Lucius said to her, bringing her out of her thoughtful daze.

"It's easy for you to say!" Hermione cried in exasperation, throwing her hands up in the air in a gesture that Lucius seemed to find offensive.

"And it is easy for me to do!" he countered, his voice cold and unsympathetic. "I have no problems closing off my mind and it is all in the mind, Miss Granger. Exercise some control over your mind. Lord knows how long it has been since you last did that."

Hermione scowled deeply at him as he slipped in a plain insult and was in half-a-mind to raise her wand and shoot a hex at him. But Lucius seemed to read her thoughts for he swiftly pressed on.

"On the count of three…"

Hermione glared even more at him as she felt only irritation at his power over the situation. He might be a terribly misunderstood man, but she didn't feel like trying to understand him right now. All she wanted to do was shriek her frustration at him, but there was no time for it.

"One."

Remain focused. Remain focused. Don't think about him. Remain focused.

"Two."

Why is he so annoying? Who does he think he is? No, don't think about him. Remain focused.

"Three. Legilimens!"

This time, Hermione felt the surge of the spell that was becoming increasingly more familiar to her, charge through her and she focused hard on seeing beyond the flickering images. She tried desperately to bring the loose, separating threads of her mind together to tie them back into the same knot that would allow her to think clearly. She clenched her jaw shut as she strived to break free of the spell clamping down on her.

Ron snogging Lavender… How embarrassing… Hermione sending a flock of angry birds at Ron… Running up the stairs of old Bathilda Bagshot's house… Catching a glimpse of those horrid, terrifying red slits that could hardly be called eyes… The front of Malfoy Manor… Walking down the cold hallway… Being roughly jerked into the drawing room…

Oh no…

Yellow eyes… Wand… Knife…

Hermione was on all fours on the green carpeted floor of a room. Her mind was spinning as she stared down at the floor and tried to figure out what had happened. She slowly managed to sit up and saw Lucius standing above her with a strange expression on his face. She couldn't decide whether it was icy anger or twisted fear.

"You aren't trying hard enough…" Lucius said automatically, his voice sounding strangely distant as his grey eyes bore into her. Suppressing a shudder of fear at the intensity of his gaze, Hermione quickly stood up and raised her wand.

"You're not exactly helping," she remarked quietly as Lucius snapped out of any reverie he might have been drifting off to and eyed her coldly.

"How so?" he asked in a deliberately bored tone.

"Well, you're just telling me to keep detached, but it's not as easy as that!" she exclaimed while Lucius watched her with narrowed eyes. "It's impossible just to close off your mind when you're not used to it!"

"Am I supposed to be feeling sympathetic to your plight?" Lucius sneered at her while Hermione quivered with indignant rage shooting up her spine.

"I guess I can't expect anything as human as sympathy from…someone like you," she said quietly in a venomous voice as she strictly controlled her simmering ire that threatened to spill and burn anything in the nearby vicinity.

"Quite right," Lucius added briskly as he made ready to break into her mind yet again. "So I expect you to take that into consideration when working with me."

Hermione grimaced as she bit back her endless retorts. She simply couldn't understand why he could be so serious and almost human when night fell, yet he insisted on being the scornful, arrogant bigot during the daytime. It was as if he was trying to convince her that he was still capable of hating her beyond words. As if I need reminding, she thought with a snort as she firmed herself for what was to come.

"Remember to focus," Lucius drawled in an unbearably condescending manner. "One."

Hermione gritted her teeth as she threw all her concentration at the thought of overcoming the spell he was about to cast on her. She could do this! All she needed to do was focus…

"Two."

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

"Legilimens!"

What the…? He didn't say three! That cheating… evil man!

Hermione felt so aggravated that all she wanted to do was throw a good jinx at him. How could he even dare to go before she was ready? Damn him!

"Protego!"

Suddenly, the scenes of herself celebrating after the Final Battle faded and were replaced by a series of images that were in a shadowy tint. The new images that danced past her eyes looked so much darker somehow… She wasn't sure why there had been a change of colour as she didn't recall going anywhere in her lifetime that held this purplish-black light…

A man bucking violently under the grapples of a torturing curse, his jerking head covered by the hood of his robes… The hood slipping off and a sleek mane of tussled white-blond hair sweeping over his shoulders while he lifted his pale face to roar silently in absolute agony… Lucius… A grey-faced Draco standing with an accusatory gleam in his deadened, dull grey eyes as he moved in slow-motion and opened his mouth to speak… The memory was silent, but Hermione knew what he was saying… How could you leave me on my own? Then, nothing but unseeing black… But there was sound in this memory… The sound of a terrible, gut-wrenching scream of a girl that ripped through Hermione's ears and deafened her to everything else… That scream just kept on going… Her stomach was beginning to churn at the hellish sonance, and she could taste bitter acid in her mouth…

Hermione was jerked out of the strange memories that she knew didn't belong to her as the distancing sound of the scream echoed eerily in the darkness of her mind, making chilling shivers shoot down her spine and cause her soul to cringe upon hearing it.

She blinked rapidly as the drawing room of Grimmauld Place swam into view again. She could still hear the voice ringing around her mind. It sounded so loud and raw in her ears and she could feel herself shaking from the just hearing it. She looked around with bewilderment to see Lucius staring at her with wide eyes.

She stood up slowly while Lucius' eyes narrowed on her and he gazed at her searchingly. She realised that her heart was thumping madly in its cage from hearing that horrible, drawn-out scream. Somehow, she knew exactly who was screaming, but she couldn't believe that he could hear it as well…

That had been her voice screaming, tearing in her throat as she strained it from her continuous cries of agony.

She locked onto his blank gaze as the truth hit her. Lucius hadn't been lying; he heard her scream all the time. It made her skin prickle with fear, but she could feel something strangely comforting in the discovery of the truth. She had witnessed the proof that a minute sliver of human conscience existed in Lucius Malfoy.

She didn't know what to say as a feeling of shock and sudden understanding shot through her. She finally knew why she had trusted Malfoy thus far, and didn't know what to feel towards him. Was he still the insufferable enemy? Was he a villain? Was he simply a misunderstood man who had lost the truth?

She had no time to ask what he was, for Lucius abruptly turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, closing the door after him with more force than necessary. Hermione remained frozen to the spot as she realised that he had let the truth escape in that moment she unintentionally broke into his mind with a rebounding shield spell.

Despite the hot swirl of angry energy that he had left behind in his icy wake, Hermione couldn't help feeling a little reassured by the fact that he was actually human enough to feel pain from his sins. She slowly walked over to the couch to sit down in a daze, uncertain how to react to the sudden revelation.

She knew that Lucius would probably be unable to face the truth, even when she herself had witnessed it. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was the cold, plain truth, and she didn't blame him as truth for him was likely to be painful.

She sighed deeply in confused acceptance as she didn't have the heart to feel angry that she hadn't mastered Occlumency. It didn't seem important right now…

Her mind kept coming back to the thoughts in Lucius' head and she realised what he had meant by 'entirely different family situations'. There was tension riddled in the Malfoy household, and she was feeling empathic enough to understand why Lucius wouldn't want to return home to a cold family.

Another stone had been lifted, and another secret revealed. Hermione leaned her head back against the back of the couch and sighed heavily. Malfoy was scared of the truth, but it was high time he learnt to face the consequences of his life.

Sometimes, truth was the hardest teacher…

 

16\. A Truce

Hermione looked up at the clock above the mantelpiece in the drawing room. It read three o'clock in the afternoon, and the fading beams of late autumn's golden sunlight only served to stress the point. It had been at least an hour since Lucius had left the room in a whirl of rage, and she must have been sitting on the couch since then.

She was growing rather stiff from sitting in such a numb daze, but the creeping cold in the room was slowly waking her. She had been trying to understand what might be going through Lucius' mind, but hadn't managed to come up with a decent conclusion, as her own mind had been failing miserably in an accurate mind-analysis.

She sighed and stretched her legs to bring her aching limbs back to life, and gave a yawn. She was feeling exhausted, but wasn't sure just what had caused her to feel so weary. She reasoned that it was probably her emotions again, getting the better of her. Now, if only she could be like Lucius and be indifferent to it all…

But he hadn't been indifferent. He hadn't been emotionless when we saw his thoughts… He had been quite…human in his feelings…

Yes, he had been human, but clearly not a kind or gentle human. She gave another small sigh as she rose from her seat and decided on what to do. She would have to endure Lucius' presence in her life a little longer, so perhaps it was better to sort out the nameless mess that was now sprawled between them. She knew that he wasn't happy, either with her or himself, but she knew that if she didn't face him now and straighten out any potential problems, he would be the enemy once again, and Lucius Malfoy was someone she didn't want as a foe.

She left the room in search of him, thinking along the way, just how bizarre it was to be actually wanting to find the wizard wrapped up in mystery and intriguing dark past. However much she thought she knew about him, she knew that his brief blurb of personality didn't end just at the love for the Dark Arts. There was more to him than the eye could see or the ear could hear, but she doubted anyone knew what lay behind the mask.

As she softly made her way downstairs towards the kitchen, she contemplated the analysis she had made of his personality. He was arrogant and haughty; yes. He was bigoted; yes. He was sarcastic and snarky; yes. But he was also intelligent and powerful, both magically and physically. Hermione realised he would be a very nasty enemy indeed, should she provoke him into being one.

The door to the kitchen was ajar, and she slipped in with barely a whisper of her clothes. She knew that wearing Muggle-style jeans and jumper probably made Lucius want to hex her, but she was defiant in that matter; she wouldn't let some pureblooded bigot dictate her life just because he didn't like signs of Muggles.

It almost felt like they were at war; even though she knew she had done nothing wrong, Lucius was obviously angry at her, and was probably feeling murderous as well. It was plain to her that they weren't on the same side anymore and she was willing to apologise if only to remain on speaking terms with him.

She paused by the doorway to observe the room, and looked down towards the unlit fireplace at the far end to see if Lucius was sitting in his usual armchair. She was not surprised to catch a glimpse of his white-blond hair visible in the dim corner of the room, but nervously smoothed her clothes down before walking towards him. He was sitting with his back to her, so she wasn't sure if he was aware of her presence, but she decided to move quietly so as not to interrupt his mood.

By the time she reached his side, she could see the large glass of whiskey he slowly swilled in his hand and guessed that he had been numbing himself by consuming alcohol. She felt both pity and irritation at the same time as she watched him; she couldn't understand why he would strive to ignore the fact that he had feelings, and it irked her. But on the other hand, she could understand that he was someone who didn't like to share anything with anyone, including his emotions…

"Mr Malfoy?" she said tentatively as she came around him to stand before him, leaving a wide gap between them to ensure she wouldn't be victim to any of his sudden urges to throttle her.

Lucius tilted his head up to eye her warily and Hermione could see that there was a strangely haunted look about him. His pale face seemed to have lost all traces of life and the aristocratic angles of his face seemed sharper than ever. She recognised the resentment sitting on his features as she had witnessed it often enough on the face of Draco.

"I'm – I'm sorry…" she said in a quiet voice, casting away her pride and sacrificing a little of her dignity in order to bring him into the light.

"Yes, you should be."

Hermione sat down on a low stool at his feet and glanced up at his face when she heard his usually smooth voice sounding a little rougher. She didn't know how to reply to his bitter statement, so she simply sat there, looking up at him with her hands twisting nervously in her lap. Lucius, in the meantime, had turned away to gaze off into the dark corners of the room and seemed to ignore her.

Hermione wasn't sure what she had apologised for, as she hadn't technically done anything wrong; but she had seen how much it had helped to say sorry when Ginny had let go of her pride to make some amendments with Lucius. However, she couldn't be certain if he would receive her apologies the same way, as she guessed he probably saw her only for her blood's worth.

"You should be sorry for even talking to me," Lucius suddenly continued. "I know I am…"

"It's good to talk…" Hermione reasoned gently, catching his melancholic mood and feeling the greying shawl of hopelessness settle over her.

"And the logic behind that is…?" he said slowly, turning his head so that he was gazing at her with his piercing steely eyes. Hermione realised that he was challenging her to argue back, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. There was no knowing if he would hex her for daring to differ in opinions to him, but it was slightly too late for that now… She had been the opposite of him in everything and anything for so long, that it could hardly be changed. Perhaps, if she offered an argument, it might stimulate him into talking…

"It's good to let out your feelings by talking," she said when Lucius continued to look at her with dare and umbrage in his eyes.

"That is not logic," he muttered scornfully while Hermione felt the familiar fire of passionate retaliation rise within her. She had to temper it tightly so that she wouldn't leap up and start a long speech on her thoughts, as she knew it wouldn't be appreciated in the least by one surly Malfoy. The best she could do was to reason with him calmly and quietly. She hoped that that way wouldn't evoke such a nasty reaction from him.

"It is if you think about it," she said lightly. "Keeping things bottled up inside you makes you incredibly stressed."

"Prove it," Lucius hissed back at her, his eyes flaring with anger. Hermione recognised the look, and bit her lip in fear, but knew she would have to press on if she ever wanted to make him see the light.

"I don't need to. You've done that for me," she replied in a hushed voice, careful to perch on her seat so that she could spring away, should there be any sign of danger from him.

"What do you mean?" he snapped irritably, looking suddenly suspicious. Hermione stilled her jumping nerves before she gathered enough courage to continue.

"You keep things sealed up. It isn't good for you."

There was along silence as Lucius gazed at her with a hard look in his eyes, his mouth set in a thin line as he thought over her words. Hermione watched him with hope in her mind, teetering nervously on the edge of her seat as she waited for his reaction. She desperately wished that he would accept everything and admit that he was human, but knowing him, he could quite easily turn his back on anything good in the world, if only to spite her.

"What are you trying to say, girl?" he said at last with cold acrimony lacing his voice. "That everyone should be as senseless and emotional as you?"

Hermione felt hurt and annoyance leap up in her when she heard his deliberate stabs at her personality, but breathed deeply to calm herself and retain her self-control. It was time she give him a dose of his own medicine.

"No; everyone should be able to feel and accept what life gives them."

"And I suppose that is some sentimental rubbish that Dumbledore planted in your susceptible little mind," Lucius retorted with an icy bite in his tone.

"Dumbledore was a great man!" Hermione immediately rejoined, getting a little fired up, despite her silent vows not to lose her self-control. She sat up straighter on her seat when she heard Lucius give a small, mirthless laugh. Her eyes widened to hear the sound; she had never heard him make any noise that resembled a true laugh in the slightest, and even this hollow one was a promise that hope existed for all.

"If he was so great, then why did he die so easily? Hmm?" Lucius sneered at her, his pupils narrowing down to mocking slits as he wore an expression of deep distaste. Hermione felt herself falter as she saw his old mask of pureblood prejudice conceal his face, and felt her doubts prickle her mind. Who was she to confront a wizard who had lived double her lifetime? Who was she to challenge him?

"All men die, no matter how great they are," Hermione said softly, looking him in the eye as she spoke.

"Indeed," Lucius drawled indifferently.

There was another lapse of words in which Hermione sat with unease, the silence unsettling her more than it should have. She watched Lucius with a mixture of curiosity and fear, intrigued at how he could look so composed even when he was blatantly in turmoil with his own emotions. Then, something suddenly clicked in her mind.

"Is that what you fear?" she asked, sounding almost breathless in her abrupt excitement, her eyes bright as she stared at him intensely.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked in curt tones, giving her his usual raised brow that signalled his displeasure and confusion.

"Do you fear death?" she asked, having taken a breath to steady herself. She could feel herself trembling in anticipation as she waited for his response. She knew that Voldemort's weakness had been his ultimate fear of death, and she couldn't help wonder if his followers suffered the same phobia. She was woken from the exhilaration of her new discovery by a disparaging noise by Lucius that may have been a refined version of a snort.

"I would make a poor excuse of a wizard if I feared death," he sneered as he finished his glass of whiskey. Hermione cocked her head in confusion as she took in the new piece of information. If he wasn't scared of death, what was he scared of?

The death of his family.

That was it! She had struck gold with that small find. She knew that it had to be the answer. The only thing that kept Lucius Malfoy remotely human was his family. She knew from evidence she had seen, that his family meant more to him than anything he had believed in previously.

"Do you miss your family?" she asked in a subdued tone, aware that he would either balk at the personal question and curse her into oblivion, or he would talk. It was a trigger she was willing to pull, even if there was the great risk of being strangled by him.

"That is none of your business," he replied instantly, his polite tone only just veiling his irritation. Hermione could tell from his voice that she had laid her finger on the exact point of his misery, and he seemed unwilling to continue to discuss the sore spot any further.

"I miss my parents," she murmured in a dreamy tone, looking away from him to gaze at the far end of the kitchen which was lit up by the long window. She didn't really care if Lucius was looking at her like she was a lunatic; it was simply the truth. She missed being away from her family, and she could sympathise with him in that sense. Perhaps that was the one thing they had in common, even if their situations were a little 'different'.

"Well, aren't we quite the pair of unwanted outcasts," Lucius sneered with heavy sarcasm, making Hermione look up at him with narrowed eyes. She wasn't surprised by his mocking her sentimental feelings, but she was taken aback by how he would even think to mention their similarity, even if it was in satirical context.

"Yes, I feel sorry for myself," she said with an indignant sniff, annoyed that he would snub her attempts at trying to understand what he was feeling.

"You should be," Lucius drawled coldly as he looked at his empty glass.

"Why?" Hermione asked curiously, unable to figure out why she should be sorry for anything.

"For putting me through this mess," he muttered, the anger appearing in his eyes again. Hermione sat upright as his eyes swivelled to land on her and burn her with his icy fire. She didn't know what it was about him, but those eyes were like chips of freezing steel that somehow managed to hold a scorching fire that was both scalding and glacial. He didn't make any sense; how could he be so apathetic and unemotional one moment, and then full of rage and passionate ire the next. She hadn't known what the true meaning of a paradox was until that point, but perhaps she now had an accurate definition of the word sitting right before her…

"They think I chose the job of protecting you over them," Lucius snarled viciously, his eyes flickering angrily over the dim shapes of the furniture in the room. "They believe that I would actually choose this job so as to avoid any hardships we would face! They think I am a coward!"

Hermione was shocked by this sudden revealing of truth. She didn't need to ask who 'they' were, but was certain that he could only be talking about his family. She had never even thought to assume that the Malfoy family problems went this far…

She could see his pale face gaining the slightest tinge of colour as his rage spoke. His knuckles were growing white as he grasped the arm of his chair and the empty glass. She felt sparks of fear ignite inside her, but she knew that it was better to allow him to rant away. After all, that was how she got her insecurities and doubts out of her system.

"He actually believes I would leave him to his fate…" Lucius muttered bitterly as he crushed the glass in his hand. Hermione watched in horror as the fragile vessel shattered and scattered minute splinters of glass over the floor, the longer shards remaining gripped in Lucius' hand until dark blood suddenly sprang from his hold and began to run over the back of his hand.

"Oh no! You have to heal that quickly!" Hermione said, rising off of her stool and leaning over him with panic racing in her veins. The blood was running out of his cuts in a frightening quantity and she was sure that if he didn't heal himself soon, he would start losing some serious body fluid.

"Don't touch me, girl!" he barked immediately as Hermione made to grab his hand. She froze immediately, half-way to the act, adrenalin pumping furiously in her body and making her heart thump at a high pace. The look on Lucius' face was enough to stop her from doing anything. She felt shivers of fear ripple through her as she was met with the familiar hatred glowing in his eyes. She recognised that look; that was how both he and Draco used to look at her in her younger years.

Hermione could feel her own resentment for the stupidity of the pureblood prejudices rise and stepped away slowly from the older wizard with the same loathing mirrored in her eyes. She had tried her best shot at understanding him and his motives, but she was no longer game for the part of compassionate saint. Besides, after all he and his fellow elitists had done to her, she shouldn't be trying to be empathic for him anyways. He didn't deserve her efforts…

"I don't need to be reminded of what you think I am," she said coldly as she backed into an armchair opposite him and sat down. "I've had to live with it ever since I entered the world of magic."

Lucius stared at the girl blankly; he hadn't meant anything besides the literal senses when he had told her not to touch him. He had no other reason besides not wanting anyone near him in his moment of deep frustration. After all, he had been forced into close contact with the girl on more than one occasion, so it was a little too late now to worry about any stains left by her. Perhaps she didn't remember that it was only the other night when she was using his hand as a pillow…

"I get tired of your prejudices! Don't you think you've ruined my life enough because of them?" Hermione said in a fierce hiss, clenching her hands into fists as she sat tensely in her chair.

"I never said anything about what you are," Lucius returned as calmly as he could, gritting his teeth slightly as the pain in his hand began to throb more and more.

"Well, I'm not stupid!" Hermione cried suddenly with eyes growing watery.

"I never said you were," Lucius replied coolly, wondering why having the girl getting mad at him made him feel strangely calm and soothed.

"Don't think that I actually want you here! I never asked for you to come and baby-sit!" Hermione exclaimed loudly in distress as she felt the tears bubble up to the brim in her eyes. She tried desperately to blink them back, but her sudden crash of overwhelming emotions was making it increasingly hard to hold back. She could just see Lucius staring at her with no particular expression on his face as her vision became wet and blurry.

"I never wanted you to be away from your family!" she wailed quite suddenly, the tears storming out of her eyes pouring down her cheeks as she hid her face in her hands. She could fee her heart beating furiously, and now understood what she had been feeling recently; guilt.

She had been subconsciously blaming herself for everything that had happened to everyone in the household. First, there had been that horrendous incident with Ron; then, she had realised that Lucius was on bad terms with his family because of her; and now, she was sure that everyone was blaming her for all the bad luck that had landed them in this fine mess.

She didn't notice Lucius looking increasingly uncomfortable as she gave in to her heart's ache and cried into her drawn-up knees until she couldn't squeeze out anymore tears. She didn't care if someone was witnessing her falling prey to her weakness, even if it was a Malfoy of all people; in a way, she thought Lucius deserved to see the consequences of his dastardly actions.

"I never asked to be cursed…" she whispered softly as she raised her head and propped her chin onto her knees, staring mournfully into the empty, blackened fireplace.

"I have not known many people who did," Lucius remarked quietly, causing Hermione to snap up and her eyes to stare at him. He was looking much calmer despite the blood still trickling out of his clenched hand.

"Why do you hate me?" she asked in a hushed whisper, looking at him with confusion riddled in her mind. She was surprised when he gave a small sigh and looked away before fixing her in his gaze.

"I was taught to hate those of lesser blood."

"But you didn't have to believe in those teaching!" Hermione reasoned in a pleading voice. Lucius gave her a sharp look that instantly made her close her mouth and swallow back any other interruptions she had been about to make.

"I have lived with that teaching indoctrinated within me," he continued in his even tones, glancing away to gaze off into the distance. "People make mistakes, and perhaps mine began a long time back…"

Hermione stared in absolute shock; Lucius Malfoy was admitting that he had made at least one mistake in his life! There was a revelation if there ever was one! Hermione listened to him with rapt attention, fixated by the disclosure of his secrets.

"You may rest assured that I will restrain any urge to kill you, Miss Granger," he said with a chilling smile that sent shivers down Hermione's back. "I am quite adept at controlling my instincts."

"That's – That's very reassuring," Hermione replied nervously, not liking the danger that gleamed in his eyes.

"I should hope so," he replied dismissively as he lost interest in the conversation and decided to flex his wounded hand a little.

"You need to fix that," Hermione pointed out while he gave her a patronising look.

"Kindly leave me to my own business, Miss Granger," he said coldly. Hermione could only sigh and harrumph as she felt the fierce storm of emotions pass away in a black cloud that disappeared off the edge of the horizon. It was only then, that she noticed that both she and Lucius weren't feeling so hateful and angry as they had been. Perhaps talking really did let out all the unwanted emotions…

"Damn!" Lucius hissed quietly as he attempted to wrap a bandage he had conjured neatly around his bloodied hand. Hermione watched him fiddle slightly as he magicked away the blood and closed the open wounds. She could see that he resented having to do something so domestic by himself, but she could tell that his pride was not permitting him to seek help elsewhere. Kreacher would have eagerly done it for 'Master Malfoy', but Hermione knew that Lucius would never call a house-elf to finish the job, since he had started. It would be a show of some weakness in him, and she knew men like him would rather do something themselves then have someone show them up.

Hermione observed Lucius for a few more minutes as he silently struggled to tie a bandage around his bad hand. He couldn't use his wand as he had damaged his wand hand, and even if he had been ambidextrous, he wouldn't have been able patch himself up as neatly as he wanted.

Fed up with surveying him, Hermione rose suddenly from her chair and marched over to him. Without warning, she grabbed the wrist of his damaged hand and stole the bandage from his good hand. She ignored the look of irritation that appeared on Lucius' face as she silently took over from him, but let him glare at her as she undid and rewound the bandage around his hand, having cleaned it first with her wand.

They were silent the entire time; Hermione concentrating on dressing his wound tightly as well as neatly, while Lucius debated with himself whether he should be looking grateful or not.

When she was done, Hermione stepped back to admire her handiwork, surprised at her own audacity for actually making the move to offer her aid. It was completely surreal, but then again, the situation had changed drastically since their first meetings…

She watched him as he examined her work, and felt a small swell of pride blossom within her when he gave a slight nod of satisfaction. Catching her smug look, Lucius looked up at her with a haughty expression and Hermione feared for a moment that he might lodge a complaint against her.

"Don't tell Potter," he drawled, gesturing towards the bandage. Hermione had to bite back a small laugh at the seriousness of his expression as it didn't go well with the knowledge that she had witnessed Lucius Malfoy inept at doing something, even if it was just tying a bandage.

"If you agree to teach me Occlumency again," Hermione said with a sly look, not knowing how he would react to that offer.

"I have never had such a bad offer proposed to me," Lucius said in his lazy manner while Hermione couldn't tell if she was supposed to laugh or not.

"Well, I'm no diplomat," Hermione said with a shrug, feeling a lot better now that the air had cleared up between them.

"I can see," Lucius commented dryly while Hermione had to rein in the impulse to punch him.

"So…?" she asked slowly, desperately hoping that he would accept.

"Very well," Lucius replied with a small sigh while Hermione couldn't stop a smile appearing on her face. "But only if you do not use the Shield Charm to repel my attack on your mind."

"Fine," she said airily as she plonked herself back in her chair to smile happily. Lucius seemed unnerved by her sudden change of mood and steeled himself by putting on his best arrogant look.

"I feel like I just signed my life away," he muttered as he sat back with his newly wrapped up hand resting on his thigh.

"You have," Hermione added. "We've just made a good truce."

"I wonder how long it will last," Lucius said in a low voice to himself, but Hermione didn't have to strain much to hear. She grinned as he ended his conversation with her by turning towards the fire and lighting it with a casual wave of his wand.

It had been another day of drama and emotions, but if it ended this good, she couldn't help feel that life could only get better…


	9. IX

17\. A Visitor

Hermione had just finished writing a lengthy letter to her parents, when she heard the front door open and close. She sat up straight at her desk which was pushed up against the long window so that she could gaze outside whilst writing, and stretched her stiff limbs.

She had been in her room for the past few hours, having left Lucius to keep his own company in the drawing room. Being alone helped her gather her thoughts and smooth out her confusion into a semi-understandable state of mind. She guessed that Harry had returned from work and dinner would be served soon. Her stomach seemed to realise this also, for it gave a small rumble, causing her to blush with embarrassment, even though there was no-one else present in the room.

She took her time standing up and folding the letter to send via an owl later. It calmed her to do something that would take her thoughts away from her current situation. Reading and writing as though she had her OWLS coming up was a sufficient way to distract her from the fact that Lucius Malfoy was lounging about in the house, and she had successfully ruined her friendship with Ron. Even the mere thought of remembering the dreadful night of attempting to kill him caused her heart to ache unlike anything she had felt before.

Hermione jerked her head up when a light knock sounded on her door and she instinctively grabbed her wand that was sitting on the table, to prepare for anything that might come through the door.

"Hermione?"

She sighed in relief when she heard Harry's voice call through the wood and went to open the door.

"I'm glad you're back," she said as the sight of his familiar face met her eyes. "I was bored out of my mind."

"Tired of chatting to Mr Malfoy?" Harry asked with a grin as he took up her invitation and walked past the threshold.

"Oh, ha ha," Hermione replied with an indignant sniff while Harry gave a small laugh.

"You two just seem the best of chums!" he teased her, while she did her best to scowl at him.

"Well, why wouldn't we be?" she replied sweetly. "If you ignore the fact that he's a pureblood supremacist and I'm a stubborn Muggleborn, we seem so likely to be the best of friends."

"Hmm… Just as I thought," Harry murmured pensively.

"Thought what?" Hermione asked quickly, her piqued curiosity causing her to forget her previous sarcasm.

"You're getting lonely in this house with no-one but a Malfoy for company."

"That was a speedy analysis, Harry," Hermione remarked sardonically while Harry could only nod in agreement at his slowness.

"But that's why I brought someone to see you," he said, a smile growing on his face. Hermione cocked her head slightly to one side to demonstrate her surprise, and felt warmth begin to glow in the pits of her stomach.

"Ron?" she asked immediately, trying in vain to contain her excited hope and anticipation so that she wouldn't fall prey to disappointment.

Harry gave her a sad, pitying smile that instantly sent the mounting sense of happiness in her heart plunging back to the dark depths. She had to consciously steel herself, as she was aware of the threatening bubble of tears that were beginning to prickle her eyes and make her nose tingle.

"No, not this time."

"Oh…" was all she could manage to say in light of the crushed hope. Harry seemed to understand her reaction as he had experienced false hope many a time, and knew exactly what she would be feeling.

"Ron's still not feeling quite himself, but as soon as he's back to normal, he'll be here to see you," Harry reassured her with a comforting pat on the arm while Hermione tried her hardest not to cry.

"But – But he probably hates me for what I've done," she murmured wretchedly. Harry gave a knowing sigh and drew her into a hug, feeling his best friend's face bury into his shoulder as sudden sobs racked through her smaller frame.

"He doesn't hate you. I promise," Harry comforted her softly, hugging her tightly when he felt her hands grabbing desperately at the front of his robes. "He's just really confused, but he doesn't hate you."

"He'll never forgive me!" Hermione wailed to the ceiling before hiding her face in her friend's shoulder again.

" 'Course he will… He'll be unable to do anything else but forgive you…"

Hermione realised how emotional she was becoming these days, and swiftly pulled back from Harry, much to his mild alarm. She was being reminded of times when girls like Lavender and Parvati would kick up a huge tear-fest which had made her sneer in disdain. Now, she found herself becoming increasingly more emotional, and she was determined not to let it all spiral out of control.

Lucius was right; she would never learn to close off her mind to outer forces if she couldn't even control what was going on inside herself. She drew herself up with as much dignity as she could manage before quietening her final sniffs so that she was no longer crying. She was aware that Harry was watching her with approval and admiration at her braveness, and it only encouraged her to remain strong.

When she was certain that her eyes didn't look so red and puffy, and she felt ready to face the world, she turned to a patient Harry and spoke with unwavering confidence.

"So who's the visitor?"

"You'll see," Harry replied with a warm smile, before stepping out of the room and starting down the corridor, towards the stairs. Hermione followed him, straightening out her somewhat crumpled clothes as best she could and putting on an air of her old defiance.

The two of them descended the stairs onto the first floor where thin strips of light glowed from around the edges of the drawing room's closed door. She could hear a voice from within that sounded female, and her heart began thumping faster with excitement.

Could Ginny have come home as an early surprise?

Harry had reached the door before her, and turned to flash her a reassuring smile before placing a hand on the doorknob and opening the door. Hermione entered the room closely after him, the new voice now sounding clear and telling her that it was definitely not Ginny's.

"Hermione," Harry said when he had reached the middle of the room. "I'd like you to meet Dahlia Vane. She's an Auror as well, and we're working together on a case at the moment; and she's also Romilda Vane's older sister."

Ah! That voice! I knew it was famliar. Romilda's sister... That would explain it...

Hermione remained where she was, standing a few steps in the room and shocked into immobility. First; no Ron, and now; no Ginny… It was so horrible to have desperate hopes dashed so brutally, even if Harry hadn't intended to hurt her.

"Hi," Dahlia said, and Hermione had the feeling that she wasn't going to like this girl much.

"Hi," she said somewhat feebly, considering her confidence had been with her up until she had passed the doorway.

Dahlia flashed her a smile from where she was sitting in the middle of the couch, and Hermione immediately felt like bristling with annoyance as her perfect, sparkling white teeth half-blinded her. The newcomer was definitely beautiful; there was no denying that fact. The dark, long waves of silky hair and bright blue eyes paired with flawless, porcelain skin and fine features proved it all. It made Hermione want to grind her teeth and smash a few glasses – a trick she had learnt by watching Lucius – as she really didn't need anyone so stunning to pretty much tell her in looks that she was simply no match.

Being with Ginny was hard enough, as she had felt quite plain and unspectacular at her stunning friend's side, but Hermione had learnt to put up with the attentions lavished on the beautiful young Weasley as her envy was pushed aside by their great friendship.

This Dahlia, however, had her wanting to throw death glares at her or even a few hexes as well as the option of walking out without another word.

"Erm… Hermione? Are you feeling okay?" Harry asked her with a small hint of nervousness in his voice when his good friend gave a long silence.

"Fine," Hermione said immediately, speaking in a casual voice which she had to work hard to maintain. "I'm just a bit…surprised, that's all…"

"Oh, right," Harry said with a look of relief. He turned back to his gorgeous, young Auror friend and gave her a small smile and a careless shrug before going to sit on a nearby armchair.

"Harry said you might need some girl company," Dahlia said in a voice that strongly reminded Hermione of Lavender Brown and forced her to hide a glower.

"Really?"

She hadn't meant to sound so bristly, and she hoped that Dahlia might be too thick to notice. She looked like one of those beautiful, but dumb girls who would chatter all day long about nothing. However, she remembered that her new object of dislike was an Auror, so she had to be fairly smart…

"Although, I must say, that it can't be that terrible here, as Mr Malfoy seems to be ever so intriguing company…" Dahlia said with a sickly fawning face which she turned to an armchair that hid the occupant from Hermione's view.

"What?" Hermione asked quickly in surprise as she realised that Lucius was actually present in the room. Her previous wonderment at why the visitor might be talking to herself was solved when she realised that Dahlia had obviously now met Lucius and had probably been doing her best to talk him to death in five quick minutes.

"Miss Vane here seems to think I am rather interesting…" Lucius' familiar drawl sounded from the armchair while Hermione slowly walked forwards so that she caught sight of his face wearing a bored expression. "Would you agree with her, Miss Granger?"

Hermione swallowed slightly with nervousness as his icy grey eyes swivelled from the lit fireplace up to her and held her gaze with frightening intensity. Hermione quickly looked away before she could betray herself with an irrational blush and gave a small, stiff nod.

"Yes, I'm sure you are," she answered dismissively as she went to sit down in the chair closest to the fire and furthest away from the others. Everyone's eyes followed her as she settled down, and she felt horribly exposed to them as the silence stretched over them.

She knew that Lucius was watching her with his usual scrutiny, probably dictating how many points she would be given for her actions. She expected him to be sneering at her lack of grace that he seemed to possess so much, but shrugged off any pending hurt at his disdainful view of her. She was used to his haughty ways by now, and her attentions were quickly turned to Dahlia, who seemed to watch her with a slightly crooked smile that looked somewhat…cruel in the warm light of the room.

"You don't sound so convinced," Lucius said lazily once she was sitting comfortably.

"About what?" Hermione asked with a start, feeling more and more awkward as both sets of piercing arctic eyes of Lucius and Dahlia landed on her. She could see Harry shifting uncomfortably from the corner of her eye, and wondered how he could even have dared to think that she would want someone like Dahlia to bring her out of her apparent loneliness.

"About myself," Lucius replied smoothly, sitting back with grace in his more casual attire of black slacks, a highly-embroidered waistcoat over a crisp white shirt. His long mane of sleek white-blond hair was out of its restraining tie and swept down from his aristocratic head with equal elegance. Hermione openly shot him a glare as she knew he was deliberately trying to irritate her and perhaps humiliate her in front of company. She was surprised when she received a small smile in return from him, causing an unfamiliar something deep down to glow with warmth at the gesture, no matter how icy he still appeared to be.

"Oh, er…" Hermione responded uncertainly, casting a glance at Harry to see that he looked terribly apologetic for the inconvenience she was going through with the fantastic combination of a sarcastic Malfoy, and a scornful Dahlia. The pleading look for forgiveness in her friend's brilliant green eyes made Hermione come to an staunch resolve: she would not let either Lucius or Dahlia to bring her to her knees in a match of how smooth one's confidence could be.

"Well, this is a first," Lucius remarked casually as he lightly brushed away some imaginary specks of dust from off of his trousers. "Miss Granger seems to have run out of words."

The biting comment was followed by a small giggle from Dahlia who had somehow inched towards the end of the couch that brought her as close to Lucius as she could get, and found her leaning towards him as she opened her plush red lips to speak.

"Does she usually talk lots?"

Hermione felt her old anger rise as she saw her new enemy flutter her long eyelashes at Lucius and talk as if she weren't even in the room. Lucius seemed to find the attention of the young lady to his left slightly alarming, as Hermione managed to catch a small glimpse of his expression before he hid it behind a cold smile as he turned to look at Dahlia. Hermione couldn't stop a smug smile escaping onto her lips as she realised that Lucius was probably in almost as much discomfort as her. It felt good to know that he was squirming inside…

"Oh, yes," Lucius said in his measured tones while Dahlia looked like she had never seen anyone so admirable. "She is usually bursting with words, or even lectures. Aren't you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione gave him her most arrogant smile as his eyes turned to her and she thought she might just be able to get two birds with one stone…

"Only you would know, Mr Malfoy," she replied sweetly, aware that Harry seemed to be watching her with wide-eyed surprise at her sudden change of mask. "We do like to chat, amongst other things…"

Lucius gave her the signature raised-eyebrow, except this time, he looked like he might lose it altogether in his hairline as he was unable to disguise his surprise and disbelief. Hermione held back the fierce blush that was pushing to appear at her bold statement, and struggled to hide it behind a smug smile directed at Dahlia. The latter sat with her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide in complete shock as she considered the endless innuendos that were likely to form on her one-tracked mind.

Hermione gave one last smile of sickly sweetness before turning to see Harry almost sweating with alarm. She gave him a look that she hoped would convey her insincerity at her last words, and judging by the confusion still swimming in his eyes, she guessed she would have to explain her motives later.

"So, you two are…?" Dahlia started slowly after managing to compose herself ever so slightly.

"Nothing!" Lucius immediately bit in with a dangerous tone in his voice. Hermione caught his eye and had to remember not to tremble as his expression of fury behind his calm mask was always so frightening.

"Miss Granger means to say that she partakes in a little training with me," Lucius explained slowly, his eyes still fixed on Hermione's with strong warning in the icy grey chips, and his voice retaining the menace beneath the drawl.

"Oh? What kind of training?" Dahlia asked, looking a little relieved. Hermione gave Lucius a look of challenge before turning her eyes away from him to gaze at the fire. She felt satisfied that she had stirred the right things in her two opponents; Lucius probably felt humiliated and embarrassed by her false hints, and Dahlia would be going crazy if she believed that Hermione and Lucius were…a thing, judging by her behaviour around the older wizard. Hermione really thought it quite pitiful, how her fellow witch seemed enamoured by Mr Malfoy. She really couldn't see what there was to like about him… Oh, except he didn't look too bad when he gave one of his smiles, even if they could cause an Ice Age… And, he wasn't too bad-looking for his age… In fact, he could even be called attract –

Hermione shook herself from the disturbing line of thoughts and turned her attention to her present company. Dahlia looked a mixture of suspicion and relief while Lucius hid his murderous rage behind a blank face.

"Just a little Occlumency," Lucius replied carelessly, as if he taught the skill everyday to stubborn Muggleborns. Dahlia looked sickeningly impressed and Hermione felt somewhat nauseous at the sight. She didn't know why she was so bothered, but there was something definitely annoying about the other girl's blatant idolising of the man. Didn't she know that he was an ex-Death Eater? After all, she was supposed to be an Auror, and they generally didn't like ex-members of Voldemort's inner circle.

"Erm… Well, seeing as we've all been introduced to each other…"

Hermione could have slapped her head at the choice words Harry employed to summarise the last ten minutes spent together. She felt like laughing at his boyishly nervous words, but held the urge back, just to save him a little dignity.

"I think dinner should be about ready. Will you eat with us, Mr Malfoy?"

Hermione fully expected Lucius to snub the invitation like he usually did and stalk off to other parts of the house, but was surprised when there was small pause. She looked up to study his face carefully, frowning as she wondered why he wasn't being as clear as usual. She was met with his glimmering eyes and a cruel smile before she heard his answer.

"Yes, I shall."

 

Harry was lighting all the gas lamps in sight as the four of them traversed down the hallways of the ancient house. Hermione hung back with the intention of explaining her scandalous behaviour to him, but didn't manage to drag him into a room right away, as she was busy watching the amusing sight of Lucius walking with a Bambi-eyed Dahlia at his heels. She had to stifle a laugh, as she was sure the blond wizard was fully aware of embarrassing situation, but there didn't seem to be much he could do.

"Hermione, what the hell is going on between you and Mr Malfoy?" Harry asked suddenly, appearing without warning at her elbow. Hermione jumped slightly at his voice and hurriedly tried to push him into an empty room to confide in him without unwanted ears hearing.

"I'm not going to budge unless you tell me exactly what's going on," Harry said resolutely, planting his feet on the floor and giving her a stern look. Hermione gave an impatient sigh of defeat as she realised that he was too big for her to man handle.

"Look; I'll tell you, but we need to get in here first," she muttered conspiratorially, grabbing his arm with one hand while turning the door handle to a random room with her other. Harry seemed like he might make a protest, but Hermione didn't release him until they had both stumbled into the dark bedroom and closed the door behind them.

Harry, with his Auror reflexes, immediately whipped out his wand to light the room with a 'lumos'. Hermione let him frown away as he observed the room as she was busy checking that the door was truly closed and sealed to wandering ears. When she was satisfied, she quickly turned to Harry who was bending over to examine the large, four-poster bed and dragged him into the middle of the room.

"I'll tell you what I was going for with that comment, but you're not allowed to interrupt as we don't have much time and they'll wonder where we are," she said to him in a forced whisper.

"Fine," Harry replied with a slightly surly look.

"Basically, I was trying to wind them up," Hermione admitted while Harry frowned harder in confusion at the confession.

"Since when were you the type to wind people up intentionally?"

"Are you saying I wind people up without trying?" Hermione asked in mild offence, causing Harry to immediately look apologetic.

"No, of course not. I'm just saying that you and Mr Malfoy seem to annoy each other anyway, even if neither of you are trying."

Hermione wondered whether she should pursue that particular point any further, but realised on second thought, that they were running out of time.

"That's besides the point," she said dismissively while Harry gave a shrug. "Anyways, I was just trying to annoy Dahlia by dropping some fake hints about her darling Mr Malfoy and me."

"You don't like Dahlia?" Harry asked with slight surprise. Hermione rolled her eyes at him and gave him a look of disbelief.

"Harry? Are you being serious? That…thing is every girl's nightmare!" Hermione exclaimed with wide gestures of her arms that had the surprised Harry lurching back with apprehension. "I can't believe you even thought I'd like her!"

"But she's chatty and stuff… I thought that might cheer you up," Harry said with a pathetic gesture of his hand while Hermione gave him an impatient look.

"I am not a boy!"

"I never said you were!" Harry replied swiftly, horrified to think that Hermione would have ever misunderstood him into thinking he had implied that.

"I don't like having chatty, obnoxiously loud, stupidly pretty girls around to cheer me up!" Hermione explained briskly when she realised that he couldn't quite grasp why Dahlia wasn't the perfect companion.

"Oh…" Harry said in a slightly hollow voice, looking down at the floor as he contemplated everything that he had discovered in the last few minutes. Hermione really pitied him; he might have saved the world several times over, but he really didn't have many clues on how girls thought. Lucius, on the contrary, was perceptive enough to know… He had instantly understood what Hermione had been getting at with her brash statement, and he hadn't seemed too happy about even the tremor of a rumour. Perhaps he realised that having someone like Dahlia hear it would mean half the world would know by the morrow…

"Come on," Hermione said with a sigh as she grabbed Harry's arm again and pushed him gently in the direction of the door. "You boys will figure out the great mysteries of the female race one day…"

"Yeah right," Harry muttered as he let himself out of the room. Hermione grinned after him and was about to leave as well, when she realised that she hadn't been in this room since she was seventeen. She paused by the doorway, letting the sound of Harry's footsteps fade as he walked down the stairs while she gazed around the darkened room. The uncurtained window showed a rich mantle of deep blue sky outside that was embedded with golden stars and a considerable sliver of a silver moon. Combined with the light of the gas lamps outside, she was able to make out the rough shapes of the furniture.

She realised that this was one of the larger bedrooms of the house, and guessed it was one that had been kept for visitors in the past. She could see that the bed sheets looked neat and untouched. She wondered if anyone even slept in the marvellously soft-looking bed. Just gazing at it made her feel slightly drowsy, and before she knew it, she was walking forwards to place a hand on the cool fabric of the Slytherin-green over covers.

"What do you think you're doing, Miss Granger?"

Hermione snapped upright and whirled around with her wand in her hand to set sight on the silhouette of Lucius in the doorway. She wasn't sure if she should have felt relieved for realising that it was only him, or dead-scared for the anger he would most likely unleash on her for her previous behaviour.

"Um… Just – Just checking for clues," she replied nervously, trying her best to look confident, despite her shaking legs.

"Now, why would you be searching for such things in my bedroom?"

"Your bedroom?" Hermione squeaked in fright, leaping away from the bed and finding herself caught between running into him by escaping via the door, or breaking her legs by jumping out the window.

"Indeed," Lucius drawled coldly, stepping forwards into the room and making Hermione grip her wand tighter and back away slowly as he advanced.

"Surely you trust me to hide nothing…undesirable in my private chambers?" he asked in a silky voice that held a terrifying undercurrent of peril.

"I – I didn't know it was your room, Mr Malfoy," Hermione stammered nervously. "I'm so sorry."

"Yet another thing you are sorry for," Lucius mused as he came to stand a few feet away from her, having slowly forced her to retreat to the window. "It seems you are sorry for a lot of things, Miss Granger."

"I wouldn't have come in here if I had known!" Hermione explained with slight hysteria entering her desperate plea. She wasn't soothed when Lucius signalled for to stop gabbling with a curt movement of his hand.

"Don't you think you have a final apology to make before we go to dine?" he asked in his deceptively calm manner, gazing at Hermione with horribly piercing eyes.

"Erm… I – I don't know what you mean," Hermione replied fearfully, truly confused by his suggestion.

"And I was beginning to think you were a little intelligent," Lucius remarked with a feigned sigh. Hermione felt like she was back in the Department of Mysteries with Malfoy leading his troupe of Death Eaters as they jeered at Harry, Hermione and their close friends who had been present.

"Perhaps I shall have to drop some blatant hints," Lucius said with another mock sigh before he stepped horribly close towards her and leaned over her so that his face was hovering above her shoulder. Hermione inhaled sharply at his closeness, but felt deep confusion and something else that she couldn't name as he lingered in the grey area of being in between touching her and being miles away. She couldn't stand how he leant over her as if he might come into contact with her, but left a few inches in between them to ensure that no part of him, including his clothes touched her.

"Your crude insinuations were more of an embarrassment to you for your rudimentary wit, than my honour," Lucius murmured into her ear, his warm breath falling onto her ear and causing Hermione's breathing to hitch while her heart rocketed on to thump loudly. She grabbed the loose reins of her senses and tried to back away, but found herself hitting the cold panes of the window, and glanced back to see Lucius lean away slightly to give her a chilly smile.

"Any apologies you would like to make, for uttering such brazen words, Miss Granger?" he asked with a strange glimmer lighting his silvery eyes. Hermione balked at the expression creeping onto his face, and tried not to tremble more when he started to invade her personal space again. She couldn't understand what was going on; she was certain Lucius Malfoy would never choose to come this close to her, never mind pretend to… to…

She would have to take steps to stop him to calm her own racing pulse, as she wouldn't be able to rest unless he backed off. She was sure he wouldn't dream of actually… actually… doing unthinkable things to her, but she had to be certain. She would give in to his victory if it only kept her safe…

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed loudly just before Lucius had reached the dangerous level of his lips being far too close to her own. She was so intensely thankful when he stopped advancing, that she felt like fainting in relief.

She was still worried as Lucius's face continued to hover inches before her own, preventing her from relaxing as his eyes flickered searchingly over her. She caught sight of the cruel smile that was becoming steadily familiar to her spread across his lips as he leaned back a few inches.

"Might I be so optimistic as to presume you have learnt your lesson?" he asked in his customary drawl, his voice sounding slightly amused, despite the preposterous situation they were in.

"Yes!" Hermione bleated in distress, wishing for nothing but to be far, far away from him. She didn't known why his close presence frightened her so much, but she found herself more scared of him when he was in such an unpredictable mood, to when he was simply angry. At least then, she would have known how to react… But having his face so close, had almost robbed her of her senses… Then she might have done something she knew she would have regretted beyond all thoughts or deeds…

She exhaled deeply when Lucius moved away abruptly to the small, elegant table by the bedside, exposing his back to her. Hermione did briefly consider hexing him when he was unaware, but her Gryffindor honour roared indignantly at the very idea, and besides, she fully expected him to be acutely conscious of the fact that he had his back to her and stood defenceless…

She caught sight of something which might have been a photograph or picture of some sort in his hands as he picked it up from the table and stowed it swiftly but quietly away into a drawer of the bedside table. Her instinctive curiosity had her instantly wondering what the image might have been, but she was curbed from sneaking a peek as Lucius turned around to face her again.

"What? Are you still here, girl?" he asked with slight irritation in his voice, and Hermione felt like shouting back her annoyance as she was sure he would have noticed if she had left. He was so unfair to her!

"What do you mean, am I still here?" she asked incredulously while Lucius shot her an impatient look. It seemed his charade of pretending to be remotely interested in intruding past her private perimeters had vanished and he was back to disliking her with scornful distaste.

Hermione felt unduly confused by his manners and was unnerved at how fast he could change the tides that rippled around them. She wasn't certain why she felt…disappointment at being eyed with such coldness, but thinking her puzzlement out was off-limits. She didn't want to know why she was feeling hurt at being addressed so icily by him… It was a forbidden area…

"Well?" Lucius asked curtly when Hermione continued to stand silently where she was. She started at his voice and practically ran out without another word, terrified what she might say to him when she was obviously not in control of her emotions.

Lucius watched her go with a sound that resembled a refined snort and glanced around the room once more before leaving and locking the door behind him.

Neither he nor Hermione had noticed the pair of curious eyes that had watched the entire episode from outside the room before vanishing as Hermione ran out…

18\. Betrayal

Hermione sat at the dinner table, feeling increasingly uncomfortable as the meal passed. Kreacher had astonished them all with his culinary skills, but even the drifting smell of a most delectable steak and kidney pie did not put her any more at ease. Harry had been tactful in their positioning, and seemed to have come up with the safest choice of seating plans to ensure that all four participants of the meal would leave the table unscathed.

Hermione was sitting besides Harry and opposite Lucius while Dahlia sat besides her new idol. The odd coupling could have been the core of a joke, but Hermione could find nothing funny about it right now. She was testing her food with her fork as daintily as she could, the presence of Lucius making her tense and rigid. Harry had made sure he was eating with a little more dignity than his usual mouth-to-dish policy, and hadn't noticed Hermione's aimless poking of her food as he watched Dahlia babble away.

The other girl's voice must have been sounding constantly in the room for the past half-hour. Lucius, who it seemed had finally given up a shred of his old ideas to actually dine with them, looked like he might stab something with his fork. Hermione glanced at him warily, uncertain on what grounds they were on. With the entrance of Dahlia in their lives, any previous terms they may have reached had been trampled back in the dust. She felt somewhat resentful of the new girl, not only because she was annoyingly pretty and insisted on flirting all throughout the meal; she had also ruined any chances of a decent talking-relationship between Hermione and Lucius.

She was sure that, that afternoon, they had reached a turning point in which they both felt themselves to be on the same side. Now, that gap which had been closed, had been pulled open again as Dahlia made herself known.

"–And the minister hardly knew what was coming!"

Hermione felt like groaning in deep despair at her misfortune. Not only was she cursed by something as bad as Bellatrix Lestrange; she was now plagued by the infuriating chatter of a face she was feeling rather eager to smash.

She looked up wearily from her plate and unintentionally locked eyes with Lucius who had lifted his head also at that moment. It was utterly surreal; his grey eyes looked momentarily bearable in its radiating temperature, and his face wasn't bearing the usual tight mask of indifference. In fact, Hermione noticed that he looked irritated, but too tired to do anything but pull a long face.

She couldn't help crack a slight smile as she realised Lucius wasn't going to have any peace during his meal. She saw him look at her with narrowing eyes of suspicion, but was surprised when she saw the corners of his lips twitch ever so slightly in the hint of a smile.

"–Don't you think, Mr Malfoy?"

Lucius immediately stiffened as he snapped back to the present conversation and turned to the young lady besides him to offer her a polite smile.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Vane. I missed that last question."

Hermione shook her head slightly in wonder at how quickly he recovered his composure, and how flawless his outward mask was. He truly was a virtuoso in the skill of deception.

"I asked if you thought the new regime led by Minister Shacklebolt is any better than that led by Fudge."

Hermione had stopped her pretences of trying to eat, and was leaning her elbows on the table in a delicate manner, her chin resting on her hands. She was quite taken by her newly-discovered occupation: Lucius-watching.

She watched in a silent daze as the object of her observance turned his head to face Dahlia and rattle off one of his smooth, diplomatic speeches that sounded like he was full of nothing but praise. But even as his highly refined voice drawled something to the enraptured Dahlia, Hermione could understand what he was saying without too much difficulty. Lucius Malfoy still had his reserves on the ministry, and he was loathe to trust the establishment as he was to trust the dead Voldemort.

Hermione couldn't get her head around the man sitting in front of her; she simply couldn't put the jagged pieces that formed the complex puzzle together. She had never met anyone like him, and her striving to understand wasn't aided by the fact that she still knew very little about him.

She didn't even know why she should try and understand him. After all, surely he didn't deserve any understanding, compassion or pity she might have for him? He certainly didn't seem to want the last two. If anyone had pride, it was Lucius Malfoy.

"And how are your family, Mr Malfoy? Do they know you're here?"

Hermione heard Dahlia speak the personal question from a slightly distanced-sounding bubble, and wondered if Lucius was going to do his usual and bite his tongue at the mention of family.

"Thriving as well as those in such a situation may," Lucius replied, a distinctly cold element in his measured voice. Hermione felt herself smile as she felt his defensive walls go up at the questioning. If he had joined dinner to try and wind her up more, he was going to have to get out of the hot seat first. Dahlia seemed quite intent in her own giggling way, to hear all about him.

"–But surely Hogwarts wasn't as free back in those days?" she simpered with her large blue eyes gazing at Lucius, who seemed to be chewing simply to delay his answer as much as possible.

"Hogwarts was quite the liberty house, I assure you."

"And I guess you met your wife there?" Dahlia asked with a girlish tone in her voice that reminded Hermione too much of gossip-queens who loved to know everything about everyone.

The girl knows he's got a wife, but she keeps on giving him the eye… What a cheap - ahem…

"I met many people there…" Lucius replied evasively as he finished his meal. Hermione had noticed that he had been eating with such careful manners, and she had initially wondered how someone could eat so trained and refined like that every meal. Ron and Harry had barely been able to keep their elbows off the table when they were wolfing down their food…

There was more talk from Harry, Dahlia and Lucius, but Hermione wasn't in the mood to join in. She felt like being on her own, and decided she would call for a well-deserved timeout after the meal. Dahlia's chatter was getting to the point of being unbearable, and the sooner dinner was over, the sooner Hermione could escape.

"–But the Headmistress doesn't want Aurors on the site."

Hermione sat up straighter as she heard the latest threads of the conversation. She gathered that McGonagall had upheld the tradition of Hogwarts being completely independent of the ministry. She couldn't restrain a smile as she fondly recalled the stern, but good-hearted professor who had been such a strong pillar in the formation of the school staff.

"Can't blame her, really," Harry muttered as he ate briskly. "She has so much on her plate, and I'm sure it will only stress her more if Aurors turn up to watch."

"Oh, but don't you think she's a little mistrusting of us Aurors, Harry?" Dahlia said with a little pout as if she was personally hurt by McGonagall's refusal.

"Frankly, I am of the opinion that the Headmistress is of rather good judgement."

Three heads turned simultaneously to stare in surprise at a calm Lucius. The latter lifted his eyes casually and gave them all a non-committal look as he pretended to find the sudden attention quite natural.

"What do you mean?" Dahlia said in a small, hushed voice of a gossip who feared, yet delighted in hearing news that might involve an unpleasant revelation.

"Oh, just that the ministry have had their days, haven't they? Not everyone was duly impressed." Lucius replied lightly with a cold smile. His icy eyes moved from Dahlia, on to Harry, where he found himself gazing into a pair of burning green eyes. How amusing, he thought as the young man on the other side of the table struggled to keep his mouth wisely closed.

Hermione, who had no particular attachment to the ministry beyond it being her workplace, shot a sideways glance at Harry and felt wary curiosity rise as she saw his jaw muscle jumping in agitation. She slowly reached over and laid a hand on Harry's arm, causing her friend to start in surprise at her touch, but turn to give her a grimace of a smile. She returned the gesture with a warm smile of reassurance, and only removed her hand when she was sure Harry wasn't about to lose control and give a rant on the good and the bad. She now realised just how much the new ministry meant to Harry, and feared that he might rise to Lucius' bait.

Dahlia, too self-absorbed to understand the sensitive tension running through the two males in the room, sat gazing idly at Lucius, studying him with a longing gleam in her eye. Hermione, who was surprised to find herself so attentive that evening, watched her female rival with particular distaste. She didn't know why she was scornful of the other girl's fancy for Lucius, but at least her derision for her was an excuse of sorts to cover up any other reasons that threatened to form on her mind.

"Oh! What happened to your hand, Mr Malfoy?" Dahlia asked, reaching to gently take hold of Lucius' bandaged hand and finger it lightly. Lucius immediately put his defence mechanism into mode and swiftly pulled his arm back, out of her reach. Hermione felt a strange satisfaction and smugness as Dahlia looked at Lucius in confusion. He let me touch him.

"Nothing, nothing," Lucius muttered dismissively, aware that Harry was listening and watching as well. Perhaps dinner with the silly young whelps hadn't been such a good idea after all. It wasn't quite as entertaining as he had hoped.

"Oh, but it is something if it's bandaged!" Dahlia exclaimed with the perfect amount of gasped horror in her voice as she reached out to take hold of his injured hand again.

"It is nothing, Miss Vane," Lucius growled in a dangerous voice, causing Dahlia to hesitate in her actions. "A small accident."

"What happened?" Harry enquired with good-natured curiosity. Hermione watched silently with a small smile spreading across her lips as she realised the time had come when Lucius would either remain tight-lipped because of his pride, and evoke some relentless investigation from Harry; or he would do the right thing and give up a little of his precious ego to explain his situation. Lucius seemed to know what he was facing also, for when he looked around and found Hermione's eyes, he gave her a knowing look.

"Just a little glass, Potter," Lucius said curtly, signalling that that was all any of them were going to get out of him. "Like I said; an accident."

Harry gave a nod of acceptance at the explanation, but Dahlia didn't seem satisfied with just a back story. Hermione wondered with a hidden sneer, whether the girl was hoping that Lucius had obtained a bad hand from doing something heroic or dangerous. She gave a small, barely audible snort as she thought that the reason for a messy hand was not too laudable at the end of the day.

"I think this needs to be wrapped better, Mr Malfoy," Dahlia fussed while Lucius did his best to hide his grimace of dislike. "Did you dress it yourself? I can understand if you did, as it's a bit clumsy, if you don't me saying," she said with a small giggle.

Hermione felt like throwing glass again.

She couldn't believe the other witch had the nerve to appear at the house as a so-called guest; then throw herself at Lucius and make Bambi eyes at him for all she was worth; then insult Hermione's attempt at handiwork without so much as a hint of subtlety.

She could feel the rising irritation transform into anger that threatened to make her throw a storm of emotions she was quite willing to unleash. Harry, beside her, seemed to notice the tension riddled through her bristling form, and turned to regard her with an anxious eye.

Lucius had endured more than his fair share of unwanted attentions that evening, and struggled to keep his demeanour polite as he made his last defence.

"I would prefer you left it alone," he said so frostily to Dahlia, that she had no choice but to stop and observe him with a questioning eye as to what he would impose otherwise. "I like to think that Miss Granger actually does possess the perfect ability to dress wounds."

There was a short silence in which nobody knew quite what to say; Hermione wasn't sure if the compliment was genuine or not, but at least it was there, in everyone's mind now. Harry sat with a slightly open mouth as he looked at Lucius in undisguised surprise. After all, he had never expected a Malfoy to let go of his old prejudices so quickly.

However, the one who seemed to find the statement the most insulting was Dahlia Vane. She looked positively horrified that Lucius would prefer to keep Hermione's bandaging on, as opposed to hers, and also amazed that he wouldn't want her lavish attentions when she was so willing to give.

Hermione could see that things were going to get more awkward if she stayed. Lucius was doing his best to brush aside his strong discomfort by sipping his glass of white wine and ignoring everyone while Harry was running his hand through his messy black hair in a characteristic sign of unease. Hermione decided that she was going to grab the chance while she still had it, and stood up with a slight scrape of the wooden benches.

"If you will all excuse me, I am very tired," she said with a forced smile before walking towards the door. She could feel three pairs of eyes glued on her back throughout the short journey, and felt her brow grow moist with nervous sweat as she left through the open door. She didn't forget to voice her thanks to Kreacher, who had learnt to bow most graciously to her, and went swiftly down the dim hallway.

She could feel the distinct cold flutter around her form as she passed the darkened walls of the passageway, and didn't have to think too hard to recall the night of the death of her good friend Crookshanks. She swept past the curtained portrait on the wall, and was about to ascend the stairs, when she stopped abruptly with one foot on the first step.

Mrs Black had been unusually silent for the past few weeks, and no-one had given it much thought. Harry had been too busy with his work to pay any attention to the undeserving old mother of his godfather and Hermione had been simply too wrapped up in solving her curse to give the matter much thought.

Now, she had managed to reach a state of mind where she was thinking of less meaningful things due to one annoying individual who was visiting, and she was able to remember the strange absence of a shrieking voice. With slow, cautious steps, she turned back in her tracks to approach the old, moth-bitten curtain that was a faded crimson. She nervously licked her lips as she edged closer to the covered portrait, apprehensive for the ear-splitting scream she expected any moment…

With a tremulous hand, she slowly took hold of the curtain and after a deep breath, whipped it back completely to reveal –

The three remaining occupants of the kitchen heard a high-pitched scream that sounded shockingly close, and all of them had leapt up in an instant. Harry was the first in the race for the door, but Lucius, who was well-practiced in running for the exit, caught up with him and roughly shouldered him aside as he led the fast-paced investigation.

Lucius came to an abrupt halt several feet away from Hermione, who was staring aghast at the ancient portrait. Neither Harry nor Dahlia made it past the older wizard as he had conveniently blocked the narrow hallway by holding his hands up against either wall.

"Miss Granger?" Lucius asked in a quiet, lowered voice, careful to not alarm the shocked Hermione. He was infinitely relieved when the young woman turned gradually to face him with wide eyes.

"She's gone!"

"Excuse me?"

"She's gone! Old Mrs Black's gone!"

"What?" Harry called from behind Lucius' shoulder, rather shocked by the news. Hermione turned her eyes to meet her friend's and repeated the revelation.

"She's gone."

Hermione heard Lucius exhale quietly in relief as he relaxed and stood to one side to allow both Harry and Dahlia to speed past to witness the strange happening with their own eyes. She watched the wizard with narrowed eyes, suspicious as to why he was looking so calmed.

"Mr Malfoy, do you realise how bad the situation is?" she asked in a slightly demanding tone, annoyed that he wasn't taking Mrs Black's disappearance serious in the least. Cool grey eyes met hers and locked on with horrible intensity as he made his reply.

"I would have hardly thought you appreciated her presence in the house."

"Yes, but it's worse that she's not here! If there's no Mrs Black, you can be sure that there's something wrong in the house!" Hermione exclaimed somewhat frantically while Lucius looked on with cool indifference.

"There are a lot of things wrong in the house already, I assure you," he remarked smoothly while giving her a pointed look. Hermione felt a jolt of offence as she understood his silent accusation and opened her mouth to make a well-aimed retort, when she was cut off by him.

"I took the liberty of getting rid of one such problem," he drawled with a slight incline of head towards the empty portrait. Hermione heard Harry spin on his heels to stare at Lucius in surprise, while she could only match her friend with an equal amount of shock.

"You got rid of her?"

"Indeed, I did," Lucius replied serenely, as if admitting to have done nothing but pour a cup of tea.

"But…how?" Hermione asked with a confounded gesture of her hands. She simply couldn't believe that Mrs Black was gone, leaving nothing but a plain backdrop of an old chair against a dark green wall.

"The Dark Arts aren't always so terrible, Miss Granger," Lucius remarked lightly, shooting her an observing glance to catch her reaction. He wasn't disappointed; Hermione felt enraged by his audacity to maintain favour of the Dark Arts when it was clear that they were bad for a reason. She couldn't believe that he had even dared to cast any form of Dark magic while in the house of an Auror…

"But the Dark Arts are bad!" she cried in retaliation, clenching her fists as she stepped closer to him to challenge him. Lucius looked mildly offended by the sudden loudness of her raised voice and gave her a reprimanding look.

"If it can get rid of unnecessary inhabitants like Mrs Black, I should think you might make some small exceptions on that view," Lucius replied casually, looking away to glance first at the empty portrait, then at the Potter boy who looked too shocked to speak.

"But she's your aunt!" Hermione reasoned back, pointing wildly towards the gilded frame that was covered in a thick layer of grime and dust. Harry had obviously ordered Kreacher to leave the portrait alone.

"That is not to say I enjoy her company any more than you do, Miss Granger," Lucius bit in curtly before moving past her and heading towards the stairs. "If you will excuse me, I will adjourn to the drawing room."

Once Lucius had disappeared onto the next floor, Hermione whirled around to face Harry and confront him with her misgivings.

"I can't believe he could be so…stupid!" she exclaimed loudly as she threw up her hands again in disgust. "The Dark Arts? Is he mad?"

"Quieten down, Hermione. He might be able to hear us," Harry said quietly while Dahlia watched them both with deep curiosity.

"I don't care if he hears!" she announced, maintaining the considerable volume of her voice and turning back to face the portrait. "He's a complete trounce! Playing about with the Dark Arts like he's a Death Eater again! I can't believe it!"

"Hermione, calm down," Harry told her firmly, grabbing hold of her flailing arms and pinning them to her side. "There's no need to get hysterical over this."

"You sound like a healer!" Hermione grumbled as she reluctantly realised that he was right; there was no need to get wild over the matter.

"Mr Malfoy has broken my rules in using the Dark Arts here, but at least he didn't do something terrible like –"

"He used Dark Arts!" Hermione interjected with a snap. "The Dark Arts! Are you listening, Harry? He used the very thing we've always been against and fighting to suppress!"

"Hermione," Harry said with a sigh as he let her go to rub his forehead where his scar had once prickled. "Let's just be happy that he didn't frazzle one of us to death, alright?"

Hermione clamped her mouth shut as she took back the furious retort she had been planning on uttering, and closed her eyes briefly to consider the situation. She had to think about what Harry had said. While she might be protected by a Vow, Harry was probably completely available for receiving any amount of curses by Lucius. Harry was also right in other aspects of course; she shouldn't lose her head just because Voldemort's once-right-hand-man had used a little Dark magic to clean up the house. Besides, the loss of screamed insults certainly provided a lighter air to the place, and she couldn't say she missed old Mrs Black in the slightest. In fact, Hermione would have been quite happy to acknowledge Lucius' success in getting rid of the old bat, if only he hadn't resorted to such hated methods…

"I bet he can't resist being a bad guy," Dahlia said with a small giggle.

Hermione opened her eyes solely for the purpose of displaying her annoyance by rolling her eyes. She wasn't sure if the other girl had caught the gesture in the low light, but couldn't be bothered to linger any longer if it meant having to put up with the company of someone she desperately wanted to strangle.

Without another word, she marched quickly upstairs, and her head being stuck on other matters, strode straight into the drawing room and sat down in the nearest empty armchair that was drawn up near the lit fireplace.

"Tired of other company?"

Hermione jerked upright from her slumped position to stare at whence the voice came from. It was silly; she knew who was sitting in the chair opposite her, but she could feel her old mistrust lurking ever since the recent discovery of Lucius' deeds.

She gave no answer, but shot him a meaningful glare before turning to sit with her legs curled up and her back against one of the arms of the chair. Her pointed ignoring of Lucius seemed to invite further curiosity from him, and she could feel his gaze hovering over her as she tried to pretend he wasn't there by staring intently at the dancing flames of the fire.

"And tired of me, I presume?"

"What?" she immediately said with a turn of her head, unable to keep up the charade of ignoring him any longer.

"Ah. Your mask has fallen off," he commented with a slightly smug look which he didn't even bother to hide. Hermione felt irked in an instance as she realised that he was merely toying with her.

"Please don't tempt me, Mr Malfoy. I fear I might bite your head off," Hermione said reluctantly, a tiny note of pleading in her voice as she silently begged for both their sakes. She didn't think it would be good for either of them if she decided to act on impulse and swing a fist, or even worse, shoot a hex at Lucius.

She saw him give her a tight smile before she turned back to leaning her side against the back of the chair and staring blankly into the orange flames. She suddenly felt like her mind had a lot to think about.

"Be my guest, Miss Granger. I feel my head has been missing for some hours now," Lucius said lightly. Hermione tilted her head up to one side to observe him with a frown; he was in a strangely careless mood tonight. Her mind whirred in confused thought for a few seconds, before she hit on the possible answer.

"Has Dahlia's presence been pleasant?" she asked sarcastically as she dropped her gaze to the floor and contemplated the girl downstairs.

"You should know, Miss Granger," Lucius replied with a soft sigh as he leaned back in his chair and breathed deeply through his nose. "I expect you know by now just what kind of character I appreciate."

Hermione felt a small blush darken her cheeks as she automatically thought of all the different meanings that could be found in such a sentence. She blushed even more when she realised how ridiculous she was being; thinking about innuendos was something Lavender or her girly friends might do. Not intelligent, modest little Hermione Granger.

She subtly hid her face beneath her hands as she felt Lucius' eyes watching her steadily throughout, and shrunk in her seat as she desperately hoped that he had not witnessed her moment of weakness. It would be embarrassing beyond belief if he had seen her blush like that, and Hermione couldn't bear the thought of anyone actually seeing her flutter like some ridiculous little girl.

"You do know that your behaviour is only fitting for a schoolgirl?" Lucius said in a somewhat cold voice, causing Hermione immediately to raise her face and straighten her back as she turned her head to look at him in the eye with a defiant stare. She felt another jolt of surprise skitter through her as she caught the makings of a rare smile flash across his lips, then disappear as quick as it had come.

"Much better," he said with a stiff nod of approval. Hermione felt like she was in some kind of Victorian drama where her ludicrously strict and austere father was showing the great extent of Victorian emotions in his long expressing of his endorsement.

"Surely not better than Dahlia?" Hermione sneered at him, the moments of the evening coming to mind once again.

"I beg your pardon?" Lucius asked with a cocked eyebrow. Hermione felt like sniggering at his confusion at her allusions, but she withheld the sounds of spiteful mirth as she decided that it was simply far too Slytherin for her liking.

"She did seem quite taken with you," she remarked airily while illumination dawned on Lucius' face. His next expression was not one of delight however, but more a grimace of dark recall.

"Most unfortunate," he remarked quietly as his eyes gazed at the mantelpiece with a deadly gleam in them. "I do despise creatures like her."

"But she's very beautiful," Hermione added flippantly, watching carefully for signs of agreement in Lucius that she fully expected. She didn't know why she was baiting him, for she was usually never interested in what males thought of pretty girls, but jealousy could – Wait! Jealousy? Was she really feeling that jealous?

"All the more to despise her," Lucius replied steadily with a stormy glimmer in his icy eyes. "Beauty was never so wasted."

"I thought you didn't like beauty," Hermione asked in a voice of sincere curiosity. The man opposite her had so much he wasn't telling her, and she was intrigued by him and his secrets.

"I appreciate beauty, but generally not in humans," Lucius said nonchalantly. Hermione frowned in thought at the strange statement that surprised her greatly; surely he was like the next man and valued female attention whenever it came around?

"Possessing a personality ruins the perfection of nature's work in a person," Lucius continued thoughtfully, speaking as if he were not aware of his present company. Hermione was sure that he wouldn't talk so openly if he had fully remembered just who was sharing talking space with him.

"I do not like listening to talk that is unnecessary. Miss Vane happens to encompass all the traits I dislike in a human being," Lucius drawled with a look of distaste appearing as he ended his conclusion.

"Oh…" was all that Hermione could come up with in response. She wasn't sure if she should be feeling heartened by his small confession, or even more depressed. So, he didn't necessary like beautiful women… But then, surely he must dislike plain girls like her even more? But why should I care? Why should I care if he likes me or not? I don't like him any more than I have to…

She didn't want to go on with that thread of thought as she was sure it was the wrong road to walk down. Dangerous, to say the least. She should steer clear of any thoughts of like and dislike, and concentrate on the matters at hand.

"Well, your dislike for Dahlia makes two of us," she said briskly as she swung her legs off the chair to stand up.

"Are you retiring for the night?" he asked with a raised brow when he saw her leave her chair.

"Yes, I'm tired," Hermione admitted, instinctively yawning as she spoke, and struggling to hide the gesture. Lucius didn't look quite as offended as she had expected at her yawn, but she supposed that he was probably too tired to make a fuss. She was far too weary from the vigorous bubble of emotional turmoil of the day to bother about anything on his side of the fence.

"Good night, Miss Granger," he said in his usual, distanced way which Hermione was beginning to accept as his normal state.

"Good night."

 

The clock on the mantelpiece indicated that is well past eleven, yet Lucius was still sitting in the same chair Hermione had left him in several hours ago. He was gazing absent-mindedly into the fire, turning over a hundred thoughts in his crammed mind, when he heard something from the floor above.

He immediately snapped to full attention from his previous state of languid relaxation, and his eyes flickered warily towards the ceiling as he waited for any more noises of suspicious nature.

There it was! A strange sound that reminded him of a cat wailing. He didn't think twice as he sprung out of his chair and walked with silent feet to the other side of the room where he opened the door noiselessly to hurry up the next flight of stairs. The steps creaked slightly under his weight, but he was passing so swiftly, that they barely moaned their censure at his movements.

He had reached the second floor within a matter of moments, his wand firmly in hand as he regarded the dimly-lit landing with narrowed eyes. Had anyone been with him, they would have noticed his admirably steady stance as he checked the hallway for signs of anything out of the ordinary.

He sincerely hoped that the girl wasn't having one of her nightmares as it always took so much effort on his part to calm her, but considering she had nightmares every night, there was little chance that he would be spared that night.

With a quiet exhale of breath through his nose, he advanced on the door he knew to separate Hermione's bedroom from the hallway, and laid his hand on the doorknob. The cool touch of metal beneath his prickled skin gave him the touch of logic he needed, and he sighed as he gently pressed his ear to the door instead of blasting it open as he had initially decided.

He closed his eyes in momentary annoyance as he heard the telltale sounds of incoherent mutterings and small shrieks of terror from inside, and took a brief half-second to put his anger to rest. He had a task to do, and he would need to carry it out successfully if he didn't want to lose what little he still possessed.

With a sharp intake of breath, he tried opening the door and was surprised but relieved to feel it swing open easily at his touch.

The room was pitch black as the curtains had been drawn, but he could hear Hermione whimpering and pleading with the foul darkness as she tossed and writhed in pain. He could hear the violent rustle of her bed sheets as she struggled against some invisible force, and he knew he had no time to waste.

He was at her bedside like a shot, grabbing hold of her flailing arms and pinning them down as she shouted words of denial and cries of fear from beneath him. He barred his teeth and hissed as he felt the strain her body's surprising and hidden strength was causing him, and felt a few of his own muscles twitch as he took on the power of an unconscious mind but awakened body.

"Miss Granger!" he called to her loudly as he held her down. It was getting increasingly difficult to suppress her physically when he couldn't get enough control over her unless he actually did the indecent thing of climbing on her bed…

"It's fake! I swear it's not the real one!" Hermione sobbed as she tried desperately to shake him off. Lucius grimaced as she thrashed violently from under his hold and argued with himself whether he should simply smack her until she woke up. It would have been the method he would have used in the old days, but he had to be careful; harming Hermione in any way might cause an uproar from all sides and he wasn't prepared for an attack of any sort.

"Miss Granger! Wake up!"

Again, Hermione answered him with babble about something being fake and begging him not to hurt her. Lucius was quickly losing his patience; why couldn't the girl simply close off her mind and stop being so emotional? He had no time to consider the difference between their personalities, as Hermione's body bucked again in apparent pain as she let out a cry of anguish.

"No! Please! Don't hurt me!"

"I am not here to hurt you," Lucius said to her firmly and loudly so as to get heard over her cries. He could see she was crying heavily as her chest heaved greatly in that thin night gown of hers, and her cheeks were wet with streams of pain.

"Please… Let go of me!"

"Calm down, girl!" Lucius snapped as his patience finally wearied. He gave Hermione a shake, but when that yielded not result, he gave a snarl of irritation as he climbed on the bed to pin her moving legs down with his knees. If anyone saw him in such a horribly degrading position, he would die of shame…

 

Dahlia froze on the landing of the second floor and stared in shock and horror. She had heard a commotion all the way from her room on the other side of the long corridor, and had rushed out in a light gown over her pyjamas to see what was going on. She clutched her wand tightly in her hand as she prayed for the courage like she always did whenever embarking on a new Auror mission.

The door to the room down the hallway was open, and in the small light that was thrown into the room from the gas lamps in the corridor, Dahlia could see something terrifying in its revelation. Lucius Malfoy was kneeling over Hermione Granger and moving his hand down to rest on the poor girl's stomach. With deep revulsion settling in her stomach, she tightened the grip on her wand and made ready to make her presence known as he seemingly lunged towards the helpless young witch struggling beneath him and tried to grab something which Dahlia couldn't see.

She immediately made her first running step into the room, only to see Lucius leap back with a short cry of pain and a low hiss. Hermione had sat bolt upright as he nimbly put distance between the two of them and landed with a little less dignity than he had intended on the floor. Dahlia could see that he was clutching his left arm to his chest with a look of great pain and was struck with confusion as Hermione jumped out of bed and charged past her without a single look or word, leaving a curious trail of silver gleaming behind her.

"What the hell is –" Dahlia began to say from the doorway, when Lucius swiftly whirled towards her voice and had to steady himself against the post of the four-poster bed as he swayed with unexpected dizziness.

"Wake Potter, now!" he shouted at her, still grimacing in pain, but forgetting his own problems momentarily to get the message across. "She's going to get him!"

Dahlia immediately left the room to rush to the room where she knew Harry was sleeping.

 

Kill that disgusting half-blood while he's here. Then both the idiots will be gone!

…What's going on?

That little blood-traitor learnt his lesson, but I didn't get to kill him. Make sure this stupid whelp learns his lesson and kill him now!

This feels familiar… But where am I?

"HARRY!"

Whose is that voice? It sounds like a female one… Why's it so dark in here?

"Ugh… Dahlia?"

Dahlia? What's she doing here? I didn't know she was staying in the house… Hang on, why am I not in bed?

"Malfoy told me to wake you!"

Malfoy? Not that bastard! He's signed up to help the filthy brats! He's going to get what he deserves when I've killed this fool. That slippery brother-in-law of mine is going to wish for hell when I'm through with him! Oh, joy!

"Potter! Get out of bed!"

That's Mr Malfoy's voice. I wonder what he's doing here… Maybe I'm not in my bedroom… I wish I could see…

"Mr Malfoy? What's Hermione doing here? Don't tell me she's got a –"

"Miss Granger! Close off your mind!"

What? I'm perfectly fine! There's no need to shout like that! I just need my sight to clear up a bit, that's all… Ah, the black is fading a little… I can see something fuzzy…

"Hermione! Drop that knife!"

Knife? What are they on about? Are they trying to scare me? Harry? Is that you?

"Why's she got a knife?"

Gods, that girl's got such an annoying voice! At least she doesn't sound so giggly right now…

Damn! I'm losing control! I need to get this knife closer! Just a bit closer! I need to smell blood! Blood!

Harry, why are you looking at me like that? What's wrong? Oh, no… Don't tell me that this isn't my dream… Don't tell me this is – 

Hermione felt herself fall to the floor with a painful thump as something clamped around her entire body and smothered her with warmth. She could feel cold sweat running off her body and her heart was thumping madly. Her blood was pounding in her ears and she could hear a loud humming that obscured her ability to pick out what was real and what was her own imagination.

With a horrible jolt of shock, she felt the touch of cold silver beneath her fingers, and curled them to feel the handle of a knife under her hand. The knife!

"Let go of the knife!" a voice hissed in her ear, and Hermione hurriedly ripped her hand away from the object in utter fear. It was only then that she realised that she was being held tightly by a pair of strong arms that pulled her away and half-carried, half-dragged her towards the doorway. She caught sight of a bewildered Harry in bed, looking as white as a ghost as he shivered in bed.

Hermione was feeling too confused to acknowledge any other feelings within her, and let herself be carried out of the room. She was vaguely aware of the great noise around her that seemed to be coming from nowhere, but she could feel the shiver of darkness and the touch of a dream-like, cold, clammy hand that could not be seen.

"Oh no!" she suddenly cried when the realisation hit her. "Harry!"

"I'm right here, Hermione," her friend's voice said from behind her, and she spun around to drop to her knees and clutch his pyjama top.

"Forgive me! Forgive me! It wasn't me! That wasn't me who was trying to kill you! Please forgive me!"

"Hermione, it's alright," Harry said firmly to her frantic pleas and rising hysteria. "Everything's going to be –"

"Get out of the house, Potter," Lucius cut in curtly as he let go of Hermione and fixed Harry with a serious look. "And take your friend with you," he said, nodding his head towards a dumbstruck Dahlia.

"That's out of the question!" Harry retorted immediately. "I'm not leaving Hermione!"

"Ridiculous! She tried to kill you!" Lucius argued back, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder and pulling her back towards him. He was holding his left arm close to his body and the entire lower sleeve of his robe looked wet with some dark liquid.

"I don't care! She needs me with her!" Harry snapped back, reaching out to take hold of Hermione and draw her into a comforting hug. Lucius however, stopped him by getting there first and dragging Hermione up into standing position.

"You will get out of the house now! It is for her sake as well!" he said in a dangerous snarl, keeping a tight grip on Hermione's arm while Harry fumed. Hermione was too stunned by the trauma of the situation to think inner senses observed that Lucius was holding his arm in an awkward position, as if he had injured it, but she couldn't remember just how that had happened…

"I can't do this to her…" Harry said quietly with a suddenly sad look on his face. He knew exactly what would happen to Hermione's heart if he were to leave as well.

"I'm afraid there is little say for you in this matter," Lucius snapped at him with anger in his eye; the boy was acting stupider than he had thought him capable of. "It is the only sensible thing to do!"

Harry gave a heavy sigh as he regarded Hermione's wide eyes with a dreading heart. She looked completely out of this world in her state of shock, and he could see that she was distinctly dazed. He glanced at Dahlia whose face was wearing a strangely hardened look and frowned when he noticed his Auror friend shooting a dirty look at Lucius.

"Dahlia?" he asked quietly when he saw hate brimming in his friend's eyes.

"Malfoy, you're going to Azkaban," Dahlia said in a hushed voice full of venom. "It almost killed me to talk to you tonight, but now I know enough of your ways to say that you haven't changed in the least. I'm going to make sure you go back to Azkaban where you belong!"

"Dahlia?" Harry asked in overwhelming surprise as her brilliant blue eyes flared with sudden rage. He was confused at what was going on. Lucius seemed to have frozen in shock also, for he seemed to have no words to say.

"You're a spy."

Everyone turned to see who had spoken the murmured words and all eyes came to rest on the fazed form of Hermione as she swayed dangerously beside Lucius.

"You came to interrogate him."

"Yes, I did," Dahlia admitted with a grim smile at the smart witch. It was a pity the girl wasn't the type who was skilled at the art of deception. With that intelligence, she would have gone a long way as an Auror…

"I knew it," Lucius hissed with loathing in his eye. "All those questions… Damn you, girl!"

"But Dahlia, you never told me about any of this!" Harry exclaimed in hurt and confusion. Dahlia turned to give him a small, apologetic smile as she made her brief explanation.

"Sorry Harry, but I couldn't tell you. It was a task set by the undersecretary."

"Percy?" Harry asked with a stunned expression. Dahlia gave a sad little nod as she acknowledged the name.

"That prat…"

Once again, everyone looked around to see Hermione raise her head slowly and gaze with determination at Dahlia. There was something definitely cold about her demeanour and the way her jaw was set gave them all an indication that she was in a rage of sorts.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" Harry asked tentatively, slowly reaching out to try and lay a hand on her arm, but to his alarm, she drew away sharply and only latched onto Lucius' arm even more.

"Get him away from me," she said quietly, swivelling her eyes to look at Lucius in the face. "Get them all away from me!"

"Miss Granger, you must be delirious –" Lucius began, frowning at her strange words, but he jerked back slightly when she suddenly raised her voice in her next cry of indignation.

"Get them away from me! Those horrible, deceiving people! I hate them! I hate them!"

"Hermione?" Harry asked with great worry as he wondered what had claimed his friend.

"Don't you dare say my name! How could you even think to bring someone like her into the house?"

Harry looked deeply guilty and ashamed as Hermione pointed accusingly at Dahlia, who remained looking cold and indifferent to the other girl's fury.

"Get them out of here, Malfoy! Do what you like, but just get them out of my sight!"

Lucius didn't need to be told twice; for once, both he and the girl agreed on something. They wanted Potter and that damn Dahlia girl as far away from them as possible. He silently pointed his wand at Harry, then gestured towards the stairs that would take him down to the ground floor. Harry exhaled loudly as he reluctantly accepted his situation, and decided that he would retreat now, and face Hermione later when she was back in the right frame of mind. Stopping to give her a sheepish glance as he still felt bad for bringing Dahlia into the house, he made a last attempt to placate her.

"Hermione, you know I wouldn't leave if I didn't have to –"

"Well, I want you to leave! And get that horrid girl out of here as well!" Hermione shrieked at him with angry tears in her eyes before she hid behind Lucius so that she wouldn't lose her self-control and fly at Harry. The latter gave her a look of deep sadness before shooting Lucius a resentful look and turning to leave the scene. Dahlia didn't follow immediately, but turned to confront Lucius who wore an expression of great displeasure and disgust at her.

"This isn't the end, Malfoy. You'll get what you deserve!"

"Don't even try, girl," he sneered back at her, hate flaming in his heart while ice crept over his skin. He really could kill right now and it was for the best that the girl turned and disappeared down the stairs. He breathed deeply to calm himself, and felt surprised when Hermione gave a small cry of distress and collapsed at his feet.

"What have I done?" she whimpered as she reached out to grab hold of his robes to steady herself and bury her face in confusion and anguish.

Lucius heaved a long sigh; it was going to be another long night.


	10. X

19\. Wavering on the Boundary

Helpless.

Useless.

Weak.

Alone.

Hermione felt like an empty shell, lacking of life and lustre. She wanted to hide from the world and never see anyone ever again. She felt anger pounding through her blood, but it was nothing compared to the anguish that was tearing at her heart, gnawing and snatching its way to her deepest chambers where her raw emotions lay unsettled.

She could see nothing but black and could feel nothing but soft, rich fabric beneath her fingers. Her mind was in no state to think straight, but she did manage to gather from strained thought, that she was still kneeling on the cold floor of the ancient house. She had buried her face in a fistful of robes, but it didn't occur to her straightaway that the robes were currently being worn by someone.

"Kindly let go, Miss Granger," a familiar voice ordered from above her. Hermione slowly released the comforting swell of material and sat back on her heels, feeling dazed and confused by her own heart. She didn't notice Lucius giving her an impatient look, but obeyed without question when he bent down slightly to take her by the arm and pull her to her feet.

"Stay here," he commanded in curt tones while Hermione stood unresponsive against the wall of the hallway. Everything looked darker than before, and her head began to clear as prickles of tireless fear began to edge its way along her limbs and towards her heart. She flicked her eyes towards Lucius as he swiftly walked towards a door down the wide corridor and felt another wave of abandonment rush over her as she saw him disappear into the room, beyond her view.

The sense of being alone and vulnerable only heightened as her guard closed the door behind him, cutting her off from the last remaining person in the house. She felt her hackles rise in apprehension as an icy draft nipped warningly at her heels, causing shivers to ripple up and down her spine. Her white nightdress was aimed to be worn during the warm summer months, and was doing very little now to keep her shielded from the gusts of menacing air that breathed from unknown crevices.

The flames in the gas lamps dotted along the wall were flickering dangerously as the strange breeze caught them at an edge, and the magnified shadows danced eerily along the pale green of the silk-covered walls. Hermione shivered more than once as she tried to reassure herself that she was quite safe and nothing was going to happen. She strived to enforce to herself that the feeling of malevolence in the air was purely her own overly active imagination and that everything would be fine as Lucius would come out of the room any moment…

But her protector did not appear, even after five whole minutes of shuddering on the dim landing. Hermione's body began to tremor with rising panic as doses of adrenalin shot through her veins; was it her, or did the darkness seem to be growing? She shrunk towards the wall and pressed her back against it as she thought she hear the faint noises of the dreaded hounds that had chased her before. She closed her eyes tightly as she tried to instil some sense of rational thinking upon herself, but she was distracted when her nose picked up the stomach-churning stench of the dogs.

She snapped her eyes open and took a few deep breaths to try and calm her thumping heart, but she was sure that she could hear the sound of overgrown claws gently scratching the stone floor of the corridor on the ground floor. The flames in the lamps seemed to waver more violently and the shadows grew larger as they slunk around her, lunging and prowling like strange wolves of the gloom. Hermione shook her head vigorously to try and clear her mind as the logical part of her realised that all thoughts of dogs couldn't be real, but the sounds were getting louder and the revolting smell was getting stronger.

"No. There're no dogs," Hermione murmured out loud in order to sooth her raging mind, but the shadows prancing across the walls seemed only to grow sharper in definition and more canine-like by the second. She stared in horror as the shapes became opaque and dense with black, a horribly grinning mouth showing razor teeth. Red eyes blinked at her once, twice, before she felt fear burst through her system in a crippling crush, the pack of shadow hounds clustering together as they slowly padded off the walls and onto the floor beneath, their weightless paws making no sound, yet their phantom claws sounding soft scrapes along the worn carpet.

Hermione began shaking in earnest as the pack of ghost dogs drew slowly closer, their warning whimpers and hungry snarls sounding like death knells in her ears. She began to back away towards the door Lucius had disappeared into, watching the advancing menaces with wide eyes as she tried to reason with herself that they were nothing but harmless apparitions.

But surely ghosts couldn't create rips in the carpet as the hounds were doing now? And apparitions weren't supposed to leave trails of silver saliva across the floor, were they?

Hermione had been walking backwards slowly, terrified that if she broke into a run, the famished dogs would reach her in one bound. She almost cried in relief when she felt her back bump against solid wood, and she stretched a hand behind to search for the cool metal of a handle. After some nervous fumbling, she felt the silver beneath her sweating hand and gave it a quick, vigorous twist before pushing the door open with all her force and throwing herself into the room.

She slammed the door shut behind her as soon as she had crossed the threshold and leaned back against the wood as she heard several yelps from the denser of the phantom hounds who had tried to leap to her. She sagged against the comforting surface of the wood and felt a few tears of overwhelming relief leak out of her eyes as she raised her head to observe the new environment.

She was standing in the bathroom which was of comfortable size, nothing too big, but enough room to house a bath, toilet and sink. She glanced at the empty bath and frowned as she could have sworn something dark had flickered across the gleaming white surface, but she had no time to ponder the matter more as she caught sight of something from the corner of her eye.

Lucius was standing by the sink, his back to her, but she could see him staring at her through the mirror hanging above the water weld. She felt her muscles tense as she realised that he was very much aware of her presence, and perhaps barging in on someone when they were using the bathroom was not the most advisable idea.

But she had had a good reason; she might have been eaten if she had stayed outside. Besides, Lucius was supposed to protect her, so if it meant she had to share the same room as him for a few minutes, Hermione was sure it wouldn't kill them.

"Um… Sorry," she said quietly, feeling a blush appear on her hot cheeks as the feeling of embarrassment settled over her. Lucius turned his head slightly so that he was looking at her with his real eyes, instead of the mirror.

"I thought I told you to stay outside," he responded in a tight voice, causing Hermione to shrink against the door as she imagined his indignant rage at having his privacy invaded by her.

"I – I was chased by dogs," she explained, ending in a soft whisper as she sighed in misery at how lame it all sounded. She wasn't surprised when Lucius let out a sharp breath through his nose; she knew he would be annoyed, but frankly, it was all for self-preservation on her part.

"Dogs," Lucius muttered with distaste as he turned back to the sink and continued with whatever he had been doing before Hermione had arrived. Even in her weary state, Hermione couldn't help feeling her curiosity pique as she watched him. Slowly, slowly, she inched forwards until she was standing cautiously a few feet behind him, able to see what he was doing.

He had drawn up the sleeve of his left arm and was holding his wand in his right hand. There was strange blackish liquid pouring out of a long gash in his left forearm and it seemed to be thickening as the unmistakable streams of blood ran hither thither across his pale skin.

Hermione let out a gasp of fright while Lucius whipped up his head sharply at the sound; he apparently hadn't heard her draw near.

"What happened to your arm?" Hermione cried in anxious questioning, momentarily forgetting her worries as she absent-mindedly clapped a hand over her open mouth in shock.

"I don't think you would wish to know, Miss Granger," Lucius replied coldly with a frown at her as he made slow circling motions with his wand above his hideous wound. Hermione felt puzzled at his answer and stepped the tiniest bit closer in order to see the injury better.

"Please, tell me what happened," she said quietly as she gazed fixatedly at the open slash that was pulsing with blood and the curious black liquid. She turned to look at Lucius as he gave a small, barely inaudible gasp of pain and grimaced in agony. Hermione felt herself cringe in sympathy to his plight as she saw the wound refusing to seal up again, despite his best efforts.

"Do you want me to do it?" she asked without thought, her instinct of wanting to help getting the better of her. She felt her mind waver at the sense in her last question when Lucius shot her an incredulous look before it was replaced again by an expression of utmost pain.

"No…" he muttered determinedly as he concentrated on casting the healing spell on the mess on his arm. Hermione watched with a feeling of sadness at not being able to offer any aid as Lucius ground his jaw and attempted to close the gaping wound. The black fluid had grown thicker in its consistency and Hermione was left to wonder just how it had got into his system. He seemed to be losing a lot of blood also, but it was hard to tell as his complexion was as pale as ever, albeit a little grey with tiredness.

She watched him struggle to maintain his high level of concentration as his body fluid flowed out of him steadily, and when it became apparent that his healing spell wasn't doing anything to ease the situation, Hermione decided she would simply have to act of her own accord, whether he liked it or not.

She reached out and gently prised his wand from his hand while taking his wounded arm with her left hand. She heard Lucius growl out words of protest, but she could feel that he was becoming weaker and weaker by the second as his blood continued to pour out into the pristine white of the porcelain basin beneath.

"Hold on to me," she advised him as she thought of the strongest healing spells she had ever learnt. She wasn't distracted when she eventually felt a masculine hand land on her shoulder and grip her tightly, but continued on muttering the chosen incantation rapidly under her breath as her eyes focused only on the wound. She could barely see any of his skin by now as it was covered by the mixed fluids which had seeped a murky shade across his arm. She began to be struck with worry when nothing seemed to be happening and the wound remained wide open and gushing body liquid just as it had before.

"Stop," Lucius hissed from besides her, jerking his injured arm slightly to emphasise his point. Hermione jumped slightly at his voice and was forced to break her concentration as she turned to frown at him.

"Why's it not closing?"

"Black blood," Lucius muttered before clenching his jaw shut and closing his eyes tightly as he held in any sounds of pain.

"Black blood?" Hermione asked gently, completely baffled by his words. She didn't want to press him to talk when he was so obviously in agony, but she had to know what the problem was if she was to solve it.

"Dark Mark," Lucius snarled out again as he held onto her shoulder tighter, his fingers biting into her delicate frame and causing Hermione to wince a little in pain. However, she was soon distracted from the sting of his grip as she realised what he was talking about. How had she not thought of it before? The cut was directly over his tattooed Dark Mark and would be slicing the horrible skull and snake emblem in half. She was just about to resume her healing work with double the vigour when she heard a small groan escape Lucius' lips as he pulled on her shoulder.

"Put me down," he managed to say and Hermione hurried to lower him down on the edge of the nearby bathtub so that he was sitting on the wide rim. She stepped in front of him to examine his condition and knelt down before him with his wand still in her hand as she reached out to take his injured arm.

"No!" he barked, his voice a little hoarse as he struggled to remain sitting upright to conserve some dignity. "Give me the wand."

Hermione wanted to lodge a complaint against the order that seemed highly unreasonable, but the strained expression that flashed across Lucius' face was enough to make her hand over the smooth stick of wood into his hands. She watched with silent fascination as Lucius trained the wand over the wound so that the tip just touched the mass of sticky fluid. She was grounded to the spot as she saw him hiss through his clenched teeth before he steeled himself and drew the wand's tip across the length of the wound, his act causing smoke to suddenly belch from the lips of the wound and spiral lazily up into the cold, sharp air.

Hermione was mystified; she couldn't understand what he had done, but after a few more swirls of smouldering fumes, she could see that the wound was beginning to seal up again. Lucius breathed a quiet sigh of relief from above her as he allowed himself the liberty of dropping his guard for a moment to catch his breath. He tilted his head back slightly to inhale the sharp air before he straightened up and rose in one elegant sweep, causing Hermione to leap back from where she sat before him and land on her bottom with little grace.

Lucius, who seemed to have recovered shockingly fast for someone who had lost a good pint of blood, shot her an impatient look before striding past her to the sink where the black and red of his blood mixed with the something else had left thick stains over the whiteness of the basin. Hermione staggered back onto her feet and wanted to rebuke him for his lack of common courtesy, but seeing him cleaning up his horrifyingly large cut softened her anger and even caused the compassionate spark to ignite once more within her.

"You've lost so much blood," she murmured, lost in wonderment at how he was still managing to stand as if nothing had happened.

"I've replaced it," Lucius answered curtly, wiping away the dried crusts of blood and black blood from his forearm, leaving an angry red weal along the length of his forearm in its place. Hermione froze as she realised something was amiss.

"Where's the Dark Mark?"

"Gone," was Lucius' short reply. She wanted to press him for more, but he seemed to have realised what she was about to do and cut her off quickly before she could even begin.

"Miss Granger, I advise you go to bed. Enough has happened for one night. You should get some rest," he said firmly, not even turning to look at her, but ripping a length of cloth off from his expensive sleeve and transfiguring it into a fresh bandage to wrap around his newly cleaned cut.

"I – I don't want to go outside," Hermione mumbled, bowing her head in shame as she realised how pathetic she sounded. So much for being a Gryffindor…

"I shall take you to your room," he assured her as he attempted to tie on the bandage. Hermione noticed him fumbling with his unsteady fingers, but decided to wait until she thought his pride had sunk a little.

Without a word, she stepped forwards to take hold of the white bandage and carefully wrap it around his forearm, taking great pains not to touch the long red line of his sealed wound more than necessary. On the one hand, she felt surprised that he wasn't objecting to her helping him, but on the other hand, they had been through enough radical situations to know that this was probably the least strange event that they would endure in their time together.

Hermione felt the silence beginning to bear down upon her as her ears picked up on the sounds of his light breathing that seemed suddenly quite close. She tried to concentrate on what she was doing, but it became hard to pay attention to her nurse duties when she could smell the faint traces of his cologne hanging in the air and feel the warmth radiating from his form as he stood beside her. She tried to still her trembling fingers, but she could feel her nerves jumping around like fire as her own face grew hot under the pressure. Suddenly, she thought how thin and exposing her white nightdress seemed to be, and she quivered as she grew worried whether he would notice or not.

She was sure Lucius would discern her discomfort as he was an exceptionally perceptive man, but she still hoped that he wouldn't realise just how much she was blushing as she stood practically touching him.

"Miss Granger –" Lucius began when Hermione dropped the tail of the bandage for the third time.

"I'm sorry," Hermione interrupted in nervous tones, feeling unbearably jumpy and warm. She hurriedly grabbed the end of the dressing in order to lessen her embarrassment, but felt her cheeks burn hotter and strange sensations shiver through her as a hand came over hers to take the binding out of her grasp.

She gave a small gasp; the touch of his fingertips had been so…warm. She kept her eyes cast down as she waited for her heart to stop its sudden thumping and her cheeks to cool down. It was embarrassing enough that she was afraid to go anywhere without Lucius, but actually blushing because of him? She would rather die…

"Perhaps I should finish the job," Lucius spoke, his usual drawl appearing as he went about the business of tying up the ends without a single falter. Either his loss of blood had made him terribly insensitive, or he was just being polite and pretending not to have noticed anything for both their sakes. It would make the situation all the more awkward if he were to acknowledge the fact that Hermione had lost her concentration because of him.

Licking her lips nervously, Hermione stepped away from him to try and calm her racing blood, afraid that her body would give more signs that would betray the uncontrollable reaction in her. She didn't know why she had suddenly felt so hot when she was dressing Lucius' wound, but there had been something undeniably intense about the moment. It had struck her as terribly concentrated; it was only the two of them, alone in the bathroom, standing inches away from each other… There was just something so suggestive about it all…

"Now…" Lucius said in his familiar, laidback speech. "You need to be taken to bed."

Hermione felt her cheeks burn hot again at his words and quickly turned away to hide her body's treachery. She felt disbelief at herself; since when did she think about such…un-Hermione-like insinuations?

Lucius had the grace to appear quite unaffected by her strange behaviour and strode over to the closed door without even giving her a second glance. Hermione fanned her cheeks lightly as she saw him raise his wand before opening the door and facing whatever the night could throw at him.

She stood still as she regarded him at a profile view, his aristocratic head looking so haughty and proud in its bearing, even when he was not consciously advertising his unquestionable heritage. Hermione continued to feel warm as she observed how his black robes caressed his well-built form with pleasing contours.

What's wrong with me?

She was staring at the father of her old school nemesis, and she was having silly thoughts about him! It was ridiculous! He was old enough to be her father!

Yet there was something about Lucius Malfoy that didn't seem remotely father-like. In fact, she couldn't imagine him to be a father at all. He certainly didn't seem the typical 'dad' character and it left her wondering what kind of relationship he had with Draco.

She was thinking hard over the matter when she saw him turn his head sharply towards her to catch her frowning at him.

"The way is clear. Come along."

Hermione snapped to attention, worried that he might have read what was going on in her mind. Anxiously twisting the hem of her night robe, she followed closely at his heels as they left the safety of the bathroom and stepped down the hallway. The shadows were still there, but Hermione was glad to find no trace of the dogs anywhere in sight. She obeyed without a single word of argument when Lucius pushed the open door to her room even further and gestured for her to enter.

The room itself was completely dark, but that was remedied when he lit his wandtip so that it cast a golden glow over the dull shapes of the furniture. Hermione saw her bed, and was immediately seized with the urge to close her eyes and sleep away all her troubles. She didn't need to be prompted by Lucius and slipped beneath the tousled covers, wondering why the bed was so messy as she settled herself in.

As she was pulling the bed sheets up, she felt something like dried paint splashed across the top blanket and leaned closer to have a look. Lucius was standing with his wand aloft just past the threshold of the room, but Hermione could see in the wandlight that the thing she had initially presumed to be paint was something much more sinister.

"Blood!" she yelped as she leapt back in bed so that her raised shoulders connected with the headboard and caused an insipid pain to spread down her back at the move. Lucius didn't move immediately at her exclamation, but observed her reaction with an expression of indifference. When she turned to look up at him in shock and horror, he gazed back at her with a raised eyebrow, challenging her to put two and two together.

"Is – Is this anything to do with your arm?" Hermione asked nervously, hoping that her guess was wrong and that she had done nothing more than attempting to cut Harry with the cursed silver knife.

"Indeed it is," Lucius drawled as he slowly walked towards the bed, waving his wand at the covers when he had reached the edge and removing the unwanted stains from the sheets. Hermione sat back against the headboard with an expression of doleful desolation as she wondered what she had tried to do while being possessed.

"Did – Did I…?" she tried to ask him the inevitable question, but tailed away in distraction when she realised that he was standing at her bedside, looking at her with his silvery eyes that could hold such an intense gaze. She cleared her throat again before she tried voicing the question again.

"Was it me who cut you?"

"Yes, it was," Lucius replied quietly, still standing stiffly by the bed. Hermione immediately gave a wail of horror as she felt overwhelming waves of guilt and shock swamp her in abundant rolls. She couldn't believe she had actually harmed her own protector. She had already tried to kill her beloved Ron, and now she had attempted to lash out at both Harry and Lucius, and had managed to injure the latter with a painful slash in the arm.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered fearfully, recoiling behind the bedcovers as she stared at the cold face of Lucius and trembled in mixed dread and guilt. She had pulled her knees up and had wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging herself as tightly as she could go, frightened that something might grab her and possess her again.

She grew worried when Lucius made no reply and stood completely still at her bedside, looking down at her with icy eyes that seemed to hold some kind of flaring cold fire. Hermione suppressed shudders as she felt herself wilt under his iron gaze and she ended up hiding her face in the tumble of blankets and knees.

"I believe I owe you my gratitude," Lucius' voice said from above her, his tone clearly uncomfortable at the idea of even contemplating thanking anyone.

"What?" Hermione asked sharply as she sat upright, staring at him with suspicion rising on her mind. She was certain that Malfoys were not in the habit of voicing their thanks to anyone, especially to someone like her. She watched as Lucius cleared his throat slightly and tried to retain his authoritative composure but betrayed his inner turmoil by the small flexing of his fingers around his wand, fidgeting with unease.

"I am no longer stained by the mark of the Dark Lord," Lucius explained in short syllables, his usual laid-back manner absent as his mask of indifference quivered slightly.

"Oh…" was all that Hermione could think of to say. She looked down at his heavily bandaged arm that was concealing the long red welt and all the previous questions that had bombarded her dizzied mind rushed back to her.

"Why did I… Why did I cut you, Mr Malfoy?" she asked in a quiet and nervous voice as she slowly settled back against her pillows and pulled the bed sheets protectively over her.

"I tried to restrain you," Lucius replied in a listless pitch, still standing rigid to attention at the side of the large bed. Hermione gave a small nod as she processed the information and allowed her mind to reconstruct a rough version of what had happened between that time and when she had regained control of herself in Harry's room. She realised that Lucius was still present in the darkened room and he had extinguished his wand's light and had lit a small candle on the bedside table.

Hermione closed her eyes momentarily as she replayed the vivid scene of her attempted assault on Harry and felt the recent memory rush past her mind's eye, enveloping her and drowning out all senses of the present situation.

"Hermione! Drop that knife!"

"Hermione, it's alright."

Hermione felt silent tears slipping out from under her eyelids as she saw Harry's face twist with anxiety and shock. He had been trying to defend her and had done his best to go against Lucius when he was ordered to leave the house.

"I'm not leaving Hermione!"

She could see his angry expression as he glared back at Lucius, determined to stay with her and offer her the sort of solace only a best friend could offer. She had already lost Ron; how could she lose Harry as well? They were here closest friends, and perhaps her only friends… Ginny was close, but Hermione's friendship with her wasn't quite the same as with the boys…

"I can't do this to her…"

Harry was looking miserable and distressed at the thought of leaving her. Hermione hadn't been in any state to recognise at the time just how much she had been touched by his unwavering friendship and sincerity. She just wished he was still here…

"Malfoy, you're going to Azkaban," Dahlia said in a hushed voice full of venom. "It almost killed me to talk to you tonight, but now I know enough of your ways to say that you haven't changed in the least. I'm going to make sure you go back to Azkaban where you belong!"

Dahlia! Oh, how Hermione could kill that girl! She had been ready to maim her when she was being horribly flirty and girly at the dinner table, but when she had learnt it was all an act of being a spy, she could have decapitated the nasty witch on the spot!

Hermione's tears of sorrow turned into hot drops of anger as she opened her eyes to the dim room and glared at the dark curtains bunched around the posts of her bed. She could feel fire raging within as she thought of Dahlia and the culprit behind her positioning; Percy Weasley.

"I can't believe him!" she muttered out loud as she fiercely clenched her fingers around the cool material of the bedcovers and twisted them violently in her hands.

"Pardon?" Lucius's measured voice said from beside her, and Hermione leapt with a start, jumping to the far side of the bed in her alarm. When she saw him still remaining at her bedside, she breathed a sigh of relief and slowly inched back to the centre of her bed, keeping a wary eye on him out of the fear that he would betray her also.

"I forgot you were here," she murmured as she leaned back on the pillows and stared up at the dark canopy of the bed.

"How flattering," he said with a small sneer, causing Hermione to turn her head sharply to shoot him a glower, but that action was somewhat stymied as her neck gave a painful crick and her tendons twinged.

By the time she could look at Lucius, it was too late to follow up on his sarcasm with a remark of her own, so she simply settled for a small look of defiance. The swaying light of the candle sent small shadows dancing across his sharp face and it painted a strangely ironic picture of a face that was half warm and almost angelic in the candlelight while the other half seemed menacing and ominous in the shadows. Hermione frowned as she saw the corners of his lips twitch ever so slightly. If she was reading it right, she thought he might be suppressing a smile of sorts. It was becoming increasingly frightening to see so many glimmers of a smile from the man whom she knew to be incapable of truly smiling.

"I shall be retiring for the night," Lucius announced to her after a long silence in which Hermione had been thinking hard about him. At his words, she jerked up a little in bed and looked horrified at the idea of being left alone to be fed to the night dogs of the dark.

"Oh no! Please, don't go!" she pleaded, dismissing her initial thoughts on how pitiable and feeble she must sound. Since when had she stooped so low as to beg an ex-Death Eater for help? Times change and people change… Besides, Malfoy's not what he used to be…

Lucius paused to give her a serious look before exhaling sharply through his nose and Summoning the chair that was sitting by the table at the far side of the wall. Hermione lay back in relief when she saw him set the chair down a few feet away from the bed and sit down on its well-cushioned seat with a stony expression. She supposed she should be cross with him for being so obviously reluctant to watch over her when he was meant to be her protector, but those thoughts were overwhelmed by the feeling of gratefulness as she admitted to herself that his presence made her feel safer. Strange…

"Go to sleep," he ordered firmly when Hermione continued to gaze at him with curious eyes, studying his face for any signs that might tell her more about him. With a small quirk of her lips and a small roll of her eyes, she turned away from him to lie on her back, ignoring the nervous feeling at having him watch her sleep and closing her eyes to shut off the world outside.

The soft mantle of sleep was slowly descending on her, but before it could settle over her mind, Hermione was thinking about all the complications of that evening.

"How was your blood replaced?" she suddenly blurted out, opening her eyes and rolling over quickly to fix Lucius with a thoughtful frown. Lucius looked mildly surprised by her abrupt question and it took him several seconds before he could think of the right answer to give.

"By using magic beyond your comprehension," he drawled patronisingly, evoking irritation in Hermione, but she managed to let it go as she fired another question at him.

"But why wouldn't your wound heal the first time we tried?"

"There are different kinds of Healing spells to use," Lucius explained with a tired sigh, not bothering to add any touches of superciliousness or airs of scorn to his words. "A wound caused by Dark magic will sometimes only respond to Healing spells derived from the same curse."

"So, like when you take snake's venom to act as antidote for a snake bite?" Hermione asked, her eagerness to learn fuelling her mind into an active mode again.

"Why would anyone wish to do something so preposterous?" Lucius remarked with raised brows, looking at her like she was mad. Hermione realised that magical folk like him wouldn't have heard of the Muggle ways to treat such inflictions and debated with herself whether she should try explaining it to him or not. There was a likely chance that he would simply scoff at what she thought to be quite clever of the Muggles and turn his nose up at the 'uncivilised' ways of healing.

"It's a Muggle thing," she mumbled with an awkward kind of shrug as the movement wasn't traditionally meant to be carried out when one was lying down in bed.

"Ah. Well, that explains it," Lucius sneered at her while Hermione had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at him again.

"It's actually quite smart and effective, you know," she countered his obvious scorn in an attempt to convert his thoughts.

"I am sure it is," Lucius commented with strong hints of sarcasm sounding in his voice. Hermione shook her head slightly in disapproval at his tone but decided to drop the subject, feeling far too tired to pursue another long rambling argument that would only end up grating up her nerves. She breathed deeply as she waited for sleep to embrace her, head lost in thoughts of what she was feeling towards the people in her life.

She had been so angry with Harry when she had found out the true identity and motives of Dahlia. But now she truly regretted ganging up on him with Lucius and telling him to leave her sight. She missed him terribly and desperately wished that he was here, sitting beside her bed and telling her everything would be okay…

But instead, she had Lucius to do the job of comforting her. So far, he hadn't earned many points in her good charts, but for who he was supposed to be, he wasn't doing too bad. Hermione was more than grateful for his presence as he was undoubtedly helpful when it came to battling the Dark Arts, but she was reluctant to like him beyond being a fellow human. After her embarrassing thoughts about him back in the bathroom, she was afraid to allow herself to like him in the slightest. She didn't know what she would begin to feel if he was to become more than her protector in her eyes…

No! He's an ex-Death Eater, pureblood supremacist and sarcastic git! He's arrogant, haughty, bigoted, sadistic, snarky and downright horrible! There's nothing to really like about him… Except – 

She bit her tongue slightly as she determinedly shut off her thoughts from that forbidden area and concentrated on falling asleep. She had closed her eyes, but her ears could still hear the light sounds of Lucius breathing a few feet away from her and it was taking all her willpower and effort not to think about the disturbing thoughts that were clamouring to break into her mind.

I really don't want to think of him more than a forced acquaintance. He's nothing more than a protector. I'll be glad when he's out of my life.

But despite speaking the words to herself loudly in her mind, Hermione wasn't so convinced that she would be glad when Lucius was nothing but a memory.  
20\. The Beginning of Something

Hermione woke with a start to the sound of heavy rain lashing against the window panes. She blinked several times as the last traces of her nightmare faded away and she was left staring at the darkened sky that was framed in the long window. The smell of damp reached her nostrils as it rose from the musty corners of the room. Had it been any other house, she would have felt warm and cosy, tucked up in bed and shielded from the warring elements raging outside. As it was, Grimmauld Place held a distinct atmosphere of stale and stagnant air that only increased when the weather outside turned foul.

Hermione sank back in her pillows, a thin layer of sweat glistening on her face from her vigorous thrashing during her sleep. She could feel her spirits slump and roll in misery like the fat raindrops that were rolling down the glass of the window. Her head was aching slightly from the vivid recalls of torturous memories and she felt drained of energy.

It was with a heavy sigh and reluctant sweep of her hand on the blankets that she slowly pulled back the covers of the bed and shuffled to the edge. As she swung her legs off to get out of bed, she caught sight of the leather chair pulled up by the bedside table and tilted her head as she observed it.

Dragging through the recesses of her mind was the image of her protector and her sole companion for the time being. She only had to close her eyes before she envisioned the pale, arrogant face framed by the mane of white-blond hair. As she saw Lucius sneer at her in her mind's eye, she recalled how she had had strange thoughts about him the night before, when she had been dressing his wound.

Had she been…attracted to him last night?

Hermione pulled a slight frown as she wondered what on earth had made her so horribly girly and emotional enough to actually find herself attracted to a man who was old enough to be her father. It seemed that the coming of the drear rain had washed away any lingering thoughts of desire on her part, and she wrinkled her nose in amused disgust at the thought that she had found Lucius Malfoy attractive. She must have been in an unhealthy state of mind to have thought it…

With a hollow laugh, she went about getting dressed, absent-mindedly pulling out a plain set of deep blue witch's robes and putting it on. She didn't know why she wasn't wearing her usual outfit of old jeans and jumper, but somehow, she felt that the simple but sophisticated robes suited her darkened mood.

She swept over to the small cream vanity set she had insisted on bringing from her own house, having reduced it in size whilst travelling, and perched on the edge of the stool to take a look at whatever horror she might have become during the night.

A calming sight met her eyes; she was neither delighted nor displeased with her appearance, but she appreciated the fact that she could have been looking much, much more worse for wear. Her face was lacking a little of its usual colour, but at least she wasn't looking pale or drawn. There were small dark rings under her eyes, but Hermione wasn't a stranger to the sight as she had experienced plenty of late nights of studying while at school. Also, she found herself curiously uncaring of whether or not she looked stunning or not. As long as she didn't look like a vampire and didn't scare her protector to literal death with the sight of her face, she would survive without copious amount of make-up.

The last of her vain attentions went to her hair; she almost growled in irritation when she saw the mass of unruly curls and knotted frizz. She had learnt over the years that outer beauty truly wasn't as great as the rest of the world seemed to think, but she couldn't ignore the feeling of disappointment that she didn't possess a single physical attribute worthy of beauteous praise.

She was constantly arguing with herself that her intelligence and ability to think was much more important than any outer manifestations of pulchritude, but it was hard to remain strong when everyone else she knew seemed to think the other way round. Her bushy hair and buck teeth had been the miserable sport of many a teasing, but thankfully, at least one of the faults had been solved when she had got her teeth shrunk to the right size by Madam Pomfrey in second year.

However, that still left her hair to be dealt with, and much to be desired. She glared at her reflection in the mirror as she began waving her wand over the offending mane and silently chanting incantations in her mind. She watched with a small sliver of satisfaction as her hair rippled with life given by the magic in her wand and untangled and smoothed itself out. When she thought it had been tamed enough, she pulled her hair back in a bun and secured it tightly with a hair tie to ensure that no strands would make their annoying break for freedom.

Feeling like a fool and hypocrite for having spent more than ten minutes improving her looks, she left her room with thoughts of breakfast printed across her mind. She had no idea what time it was, but her stomach thought it was early enough to make its demand for food and she wasn't going to deny herself that.

She had descended the first staircase down to the first floor in a silent haze, her energy entirely swamped and influenced by the feel of heavy bleakness that dulled her senses and mind. With her wand loosely in her hand, she walked past the closed door to the drawing room, feeling a small rush of warm air breathe at her as she passed.

She was about to start down the next flight of stairs when she paused, her mind suddenly having realised that something was a little strange in the way the hot wind had blown at her from the gaps between the door and its frame.

With her wand raised in apprehension and her mind in a state of full-alertness, Hermione slowly walked back towards the door of suspicion, moving carefully as she thought out her next moves. When she stopped right before the plain of warm wood, she felt all the hairs on her body rise and bristle as a strange wall of warm air pulsed between her and the door. She let her brain sieve out the pieces to form a rough conclusion from the dozens of thoughts that raced across her mind. Although the strange air that seemed to breathe in regular pulses was warm, it was not a particularly pleasant sensation and Hermione's body seemed to know this of its own accord as she felt her hairs stand up on her neck even more.

She didn't know what was on the other side; all she could do was guess that it wasn't an unwanted intruder as she didn't know of anyone who would be capable of breaking into one of the most heavily warded house in all of Britain. She was also fairly certain that Kreacher would never perform any unnecessary magic as he had become a faithful enough servant of Harry and his close friends. But that meant she was only left with one other choice for her suspicious candidate; Lucius Malfoy.

Without bothering to think out the sum any longer, Hermione decided to act upon impulse for once in her life and she swiftly unlocked the door and pushed it open with more force than intended, sending the door swinging violently on its hinges and crashing into the wall of the drawing room with a loud bang.

Hermione caught the sound of an incoherent oath being hissed through a slightly misty cloud that slowly whirled around a dark figure standing in the middle of the room. She saw a piercing beam of thin electric-blue light jerking to one side and a jet of the same spell shooting off towards the wall in a movement that lacked full control.

She stood frozen in the doorway as she saw the bubble of mist clear and Lucius spin on his heel to face her with an immensely irritated look upon his face. His wand was raised and Hermione knew that he had been casting some sort of spell, but his concentration had broken at the sound of the door and the spell had shot off to the tapestry-covered wall, and when she quickly glanced at the destination of the jet of light, she could see a black hold of considerable size which had curls of dark smoke rising lazily from the smouldered spot.

"Have you ever heard of knocking before entering, Miss Granger?" Lucius snapped at her curtly while Hermione shot him a look that mirrored his own annoyed expression.

"I'm so sorry, Mr Malfoy," she said with heavy sarcasm dripping off her tongue. "I had no idea that you used this room for practising the Dark Arts."

"Don't you start that childish insolence again, girl!" Lucius barked at her, advancing towards her with quick strides, his formidable black robes rippling slightly in the lingering swirls of warm air as he moved. Hermione found herself taking a few steps back as she immediately felt her initial fear of him return and claim her mind. She was about to turn and run away from him and dash to the safety of her own room, when she felt a hand grip her wrist painfully.

"And where is all your supposed Gryffindor bravery, hmm?" Lucius sneered at her as he yanked her back sharply, causing her to feel her arm wrench in its socket and pain shoot up her assaulted limb. Lucius ignored the little yelp the girl gave at his rough manhandling of her, and didn't let go of her until he was sure she wasn't about to run off again.

"If you want to be treated like an adult, act like one!" he reprimanded her while Hermione shot him deadly glowers as she massaged her bruised wrist and felt dislike for him creeping into her thoughts again.

"No more running away," Lucius continued sharply when Hermione made no verbal retort. But at this little command, Hermione found herself unable to stop a small sneer appearing as she met his cold grey eyes.

"And the same goes to you, Mr Malfoy," she said in a falsely sweet voice. She felt a thrill of vengeance shoot through her when she saw a flash of anger pass over his usually composed face and saw him clench his jaw momentarily before speaking in forcefully measured tones.

"Would you care to elaborate, Miss Granger?" he ground out, barely managing to sound calm as Hermione gave him a smug smile.

"Well, at least I do not run without attempting to fight first," she replied in a deliberately nonchalant manner, pleased to see that the older man seemed to be struggling to keep his temper under control and resist from shouting the house down.

"Neither do I," Lucius snarled before giving her an icy, heartless smile that sent menacing chills quivering down Hermione's spine.

"I'm sure your family thinks so too," Hermione heard the words slip out of her mouth before she had time to even think what the words' meaning would have on him. She bit her lower lip in nervous anticipation as a dangerous gleam appeared in Lucius' steely eyes and his face set like cold stone.

"I'm – I'm sorry–" she began to stutter, shocked by her own attack, but Lucius cut her off with a look of deep contempt before she could fully express her regrets and explain her poor behaviour.

"Don't you dare presume anything about my family!" he hissed venomously as he stepped closer to her to loom over her smaller frame. "You have no right, whatsoever, to talk about them like that!"

Hermione could only nod vigorously and struggle to keep her tears at bay. The look on Lucius' face was frightening her and she found herself trembling with fear as his eyes homed in on her and crushed her into withering on the spot.

"I'm sorry," she whispered shakily as she slowly backed away from the enraged wizard, her heart racing as the adrenalin pumped through her body, triggered by the fear crippling her mind. She glimpsed a shadow flickering over the sharp contours of his face, but was surprised and more than relieved when she saw his tense shoulders loosen ever so slightly and he leaned back on his heel.

"Apology only just accepted," he drawled haughtily while Hermione thought she might collapse against the doorframe in relief at living another day. "However, do not speak of my family like that ever again."

Hermione gave a strong nod to show that she understood the warning in his words of what might happen should she ever say something to insult his family. It placated but puzzled her as to how someone so obviously attached to their family could treat other beings with such brutality and disrespect. It was a question that had always remained in the back of her mind ever since she had learnt of the blood prejudice that plagued the wizarding world.

She was brought out of her musings by Lucius turning his back on her and sauntering over to the mark on the wall where his spell had hit. Hermione felt her curiosity peek its head out as she wondered what he had actually been up to before she had so rudely interrupted his business. She slowly inched after him as she saw him busy himself with examining the burnt spot on the elaborate tapestry that spanned the entire face of the walls of the room.

"How ironic," she heard him mutter as he raised a pale hand to lightly trace the outline of the circular burn with a long finger. Hermione decided to take a chance and join him in his study of the wall, hoping that he had calmed down and wasn't going to hex her for being too insolent or too near. She kept a safe distance between them as she came to stand by the tapestry, looking at where his gaze was directed at and frowning as she took in what he had found so ironic.

The silvery branches of the Black family tree wended its way across the Slytherin green weaving that was stretched across the walls and Hermione could see the names of all the purebloods sewn with meticulous perfection. She had some trouble suppressing her initial feelings of awe and being impressed at the majestic sight of a family's magnificent tree. However, the name that Lucius seemed most interested in was the one which now bore a large black scorch mark in the middle, obscuring the end letters of the first name and covering the first few letters of the last name.

Luci foy

"I am always at the receiving end of Mistress Luck," Lucius remarked dryly with a bitter smile lining his lips. Hermione watched him carefully yet covertly in order to try and decipher his complex being.

"Blasting my own name from the family tree…" he murmured in a voice that sounded somehow…amused.

"Surely there's a way to fix it?" Hermione suddenly asked, causing Lucius to tense again as he remembered that he was not alone. Hermione saw him turn his head slightly to look at her with narrowed eyes and she offered him a nervous smile to try and appease any angry qualms he might still be holding against her.

"There is nothing in my extensive knowledge that tells me this is repairable," he commented arrogantly as he turned back to lightly tap on what remained of his embroidered name. "Fortunately for me; I do not feel greatly wounded at heart for having my name semi-eradicated from this tree."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked quickly, frowning at his statement. She would have thought he might be at least a little devastated that he had almost eliminated his name from the tree of one of the pureblood families he seemed to hold so dear.

"I prefer my own line to that of the Blacks," Lucius replied with a small shadow of a smirk turning on the corner of his lips.

"But your wife is a Black, isn't she?" Hermione asked as she gestured to his wife's name on the tree besides him, feeling mystified by his apparent scorn for the House of Black.

"She was a Black," Lucius corrected as his eyes left his name to look sideways at his wife's. "And probably the sanest of the lot."

"But I thought you liked the Blacks… They were one of the best pureblood families, weren't they?" Hermione pressed on, frowning as she stared at Lucius.

"Oh, I do like them," Lucius answered in an uncharacteristically breezy manner. "I liked my aunt-in-law enough to get rid of her from her portrait downstairs and I always thought her eldest son was just like what all good pureblood heirs should be."

Hermione stared at him as she took in his highly sarcastic words. He had even gone as far as to wear a false smile on his lips and he looked eerily cheerful. She recoiled ever so slightly when Lucius turned his gaze so that it landed on her, his eyes so cold and guarded while his face still bore its smiling mask.

"You're so confusing," Hermione muttered at last, shaking her head and she was relieved to see him drop his charade and turn back to looking stoic and icy.

"That idiot of a Black has caused me enough pains in the past," Lucius drawled with a hint of suppressed ire in his voice. "And he is providing nothing to repent that fact."

"Might it be because Sirius is dead?" Hermione asked with her own bite of sarcasm as she walked over to the couch to have a seat. She glanced back to see Lucius glowering darkly at her, but she determinedly maintained an indifferent demeanour and proceeded to sit down and ignore him. It wasn't long before she heard his measured steps come up behind her and he appeared in her line of vision.

"Miss Granger," he spoke in his usual haughty drawl. "You are doing very little to assist me in any way and I do believe any negative attitude on your part is more than ungrateful."

Hermione raised her eyes to look up at the tall man standing directly before her and sighed. He was right; she really was being an ingrate with her immature, silly insolence. She let her shoulders sag as she took a deep breath before meeting his gaze again.

"I am very sorry for everything I said this morning. I'm just in a bad mood," she said in a miserable little voice, her apology bringing home the feeling of melancholy and wretchedness she had woken up with.

"I would never have guessed," Lucius commented condescendingly and Hermione had to consciously restrain herself from saying anything more of abusive nature. He really knew how to grate her nerves when he wanted to.

There was a small silence where neither of them made a move; Lucius stood expressionless before her while she sat curled up on the couch. Hermione didn't know if it was just her current dogged condition, but she felt that awkward silences with Lucius weren't actually that awkward. With anyone else, it would have been highly uncomfortable, but seeing as this particular wizard made her feel uncomfortable anyways, it felt almost normal. She looked up to study his expression to try and figure out what was going on in his mind, and frowned as she caught sight of a strange glimmer in his eyes.

Lucius gazed straight back at her, not bothered in the least by her scrutinised examination of him. If he was feeling any sort of disturbance at being stared at, he was hiding them wonderfully well. However, Hermione did feel that he was wanting to say something that he was perhaps not so well-rehearsed with.

"Miss Granger," Lucius finally said after he had cleared his throat. "I was wondering if you would grant me a…favour."

Hermione noted that it had taken a lot of effort on his part to even say the words, and she was immediately moved by how he was fighting his pride to ask something of her.

"Yes?" she answered openly, quite happy to help in order to make up for her past behaviour. She widened her eyes when she saw him stretch out his left hand towards her and raised her eyes to stare at him in befuddlement.

"Could you possibly – ah – re-dress my wound for me?" he requested, trying to sound as calm and indifferent as ever, but failing to keep the small tone of doubt out of his voice. Hermione breathed out when she realised that he wasn't asking much and sighed before giving him a small, reassuring smile.

"Of course," she replied as she stood up to take hold of his arm. Lucius gave a stiff nod of thanks and kept his mouth tightly shut as it had taken a lot of exertion just to lower his pride enough to ask help from a Mud – Muggleborn.

Hermione went about her business silently, knowing that Lucius would not appreciate it if she babbled or made snide remarks. She understood just how difficult it was for him to ask help from her of all people and was somehow…touched at the fact that he had actually swallowed his immense ego to voice his request.

She pushed up his dark sleeve and saw that the pristine white bandages had become drenched with blood. Again, she wondered how he had managed to replace his blood when it had left him in such copious amounts. Her mind whirred with questions as she unwound the binding and saw his pale forearm caked in a mass of dried blood.

"Merlin…" she breathed with a shake of her head. "Are you sure you haven't lost all your blood, Mr Malfoy? There's plenty of it on your arm," Hermione mused as she held her wand over his arm and cleaned it of the unwanted mess.

"I am fine," Lucius said curtly and Hermione took it as meaning the conversation had ended. With a careless shrug she cleaned his wound until all she could see was a thick, angry red weal that travelled down the length of his forearm. She thought it strange how the Dark Mark was no longer there and couldn't quite believe that it might have vanished for good.

"How did you get rid of your Mark?" she found herself asking with her usual thirst for knowledge.

"I have my ways," Lucius answered back tightly, obviously unwilling to disclose anything to her. Hermione paused as she held his arm and looked up at him with an expression of deep inquisitiveness.

"Why won't you tell me anything? Surely it won't hurt to just explain a bit to me? I really, really want to know, Mr Malfoy," she pleaded softly, fingers lightly pressing into the good skin around his wound as she emphasised her point. She battled the coldness in his eyes with her own determined gaze and she didn't move a finger to continue her nursing job as she waited for his response.

"There would be little point telling you, seeing as you are so averse to the Dark Arts," Lucius replied at great length, still looking annoyed at being forced to respond. Hermione stopped to think it over; he was being reasonable as she hated the thought of the Dark Arts… Yet the way he did things that no-one else could do had her just a tiny bit intrigued. She loved finding out new things, but she had always forbidden herself from feeling that same curiosity for the Dark Arts as she knew she was too young to handle the subject. But now, she was no longer a child and being stuck in a house riddled with an ominous atmosphere and an ex-Death Eater for companion, she felt herself being drawn more and more to take a bit of the forbidden fruit.

"I am only averse to them because I have never had the chance to understand them," she explained in a thoughtful voice, inwardly arguing with herself over whether she should just leave the horrible Dark Arts alone or not. Despite her fierce dislike for it, she could not deny the fact that she was also deeply fascinated by the mystery surrounding the subject.

She heard Lucius give a small sigh and glanced up at him with hope in her eyes. She realised she was still holding her wand hovering over his sealed wound while her left hand held his arm, feeling the strangely human warmth spreading from his forelimb into her own fingers.

"I do not think it wise to teach you anything on the matter of the Dark Arts," Lucius countered with his own pondering speech, crushing Hermione's hopes in one go. "It would do little to improve the situation in any way."

"But surely you could just tell me a few things? You know so much on the matter and I truly wish to know what it is about it that fixates people," Hermione beseeched again, her desire to know everything spurring her on to forget her own pride and come to the point of almost begging him to enlighten her. A muscle went in his chiselled jaw as he turned his stormy eyes to glance around the room. Hermione could see the indecision whirling in his eyes and found herself surprised by her own yearning to actually learn something from Lucius Malfoy.

"Perhaps it would be helpful for the both of us if you knew a little of what is going on," he considered out loud while Hermione nodded vigorously, feeling like a school-bound knowledge-fanatic all over again.

"Yes, it would help immensely if I knew something about the circumstance. I'm in no position to help you cure my curse if I don't know a thing about the Dark Arts," she reasoned with him. Like a father who had been cajoled into giving up by the pretty begging of his child, Lucius exhaled deeply before turning his eyes back to her.

"The Dark Arts are not what you perceive them to be," Lucius started in slow, even tones. Hermione gave fervent nods as she listened intently, almost beginning to think of herself in a classroom with a knowledgeable professor giving a most informative lecture.

"They are misunderstood by many because of previous mistakes caused by witches and wizards who dabbled in the Dark Arts."

Lucius paused as he eyed the rain falling against the window and held a thoughtful expression. Hermione had let go of his arm and was now watching him keenly, feeling the old exhilaration return at the prospect of learning.

"The Dark Arts hold far more power than any normal spell and that is why it is so easy to misuse and abuse them," Lucius continued, staring unseeingly at the darkened sky outside while his voice became slightly distant.

"Even the greatest wizard will struggle to truly master the Dark Arts as it involves more than learning the incantation and harbouring thoughts of diabolic nature. A true master of the Arts will not use them in trivial circumstances but will know that to abuse the power of the Dark Arts comes at a heavy price indeed."

Hermione felt her jaw go slack as she listened, enraptured. This man who was issuing such intelligent and dare she think, wise words seemed completely different to the Death Eater and pureblood supremacist she had known. She was even surprised that he actually knew that most Dark witches and wizards misused their power. When he began to speak again, she even held her breath for ridiculous amounts of time, not wanting to make even a squeak to disturb Lucius from his contemplative trance.

"I would be lying if I were to say that I have never used them in a false circumstance; it is so very easy to fall prey to one's own ego and wield power to the point of being unable to control it any longer."

There, he paused again to glance down at the arm that had once borne the ugly tattoo that had branded him as one of Voldemort's henchmen. Hermione could see the frown that was creasing his brow and imagined that he was probably reliving his memories in his mind, judging by the darkness that had fallen over his pale face.

"I need not point out that Bellatrix is a prime example of what can go wrong," Lucius remarked with signs of a bitter little smile. "Quite crazed, I assure you."

"Was she always like that?" Hermione asked tentatively in a hushed voice, immersed in the deep feeling of mystery and darkness whipped up by his entrancing voice.

"In the beginning; no, not quite as unhinged as when she was in the Dark Lord's service," Lucius confirmed, eyes flickering back to meet Hermione's brown orbs.

"I can't imagine her ever being…normal," Hermione murmured dazedly as she pondered the madwoman who had caused her so much pain in her seventh year and still haunted her in her dreams.

"Oh, Bellatrix was never normal," Lucius drawled with a small gesture of his hand. "She was always quite…unbalanced."

"Gods, I feel sorry for her family…" Hermione murmured with sympathy, but Lucius cut in sternly.

"Do not feel pity for them; they were all just as deranged as her, with the exception of my wife and perhaps her disowned sister."

Hermione started at the mention of Andromeda Black; it was pure shock to know that Lucius Malfoy did not hate his disowned sister-in-law enough to call her mad. In fact, he sounded quite respectful of her, considering that he was supposed to hate blood-traitors.

"Bellatrix happened to possess both magical brilliance and an uncommon amount of fierce ambition," Lucius mused out loud as he began to slowly pace the small stretch of dark rug before the fireplace. "But those two traits together caused her to be powerful without control, and she became what you knew her as."

"I just don't understand how she enjoyed causing other people pain," Hermione said with a frustrated little gesture of her hands. "I don't get how someone can be so…sadistic!"

"And that just shows how little you know about Death Eaters," Lucius remarked with a thin-lipped smile, amused at seeing her struggling to comprehend the mind of a lunatic.

"You haven't told me how she's managed to curse me yet," Hermione told him with a slight sulk, annoyed to see him being entertained at her expense.

"You are being too impatient," Lucius reprimanded her, his smile having vanished. "My generosity does not extend so far as to have to put up with any complaints you lodge against my teaching."

"Sorry," Hermione muttered huffily, sitting down on the couch behind her. "Please continue. I promise I won't interrupt."

"I shall continue simply because I enjoy hearing you apologise so much," Lucius drawled to her patronisingly, deliberately testing her nerves and revelling in seeing her fight with her own pride.

"Now, I shall not waste any more time on explaining the oddities of the Black family. I do not like reminding myself of the difficulties family gatherings could bring."

Hermione couldn't hold back a small smile as she imagined Lucius at a family gathering. Somehow, she couldn't picture him standing around a piano with other relatives and singing Christmas carols with festive gusto. Perhaps he just wasn't the singing type.

"I must admit with great reluctance; Bellatrix had an impressive grasp of the Dark Arts and they came rather naturally to her, much to our misfortune," Lucius continued as he pointed his own wand at the empty grate and with a twirl of his wrist, conjured a warm ball of orange flames. He turned towards the fire so that Hermione could only see a profile view of his head and the side of his form.

"I must confess, I have yet to discover just how she managed to leave such an unfortunate legacy in cursing you so thoroughly."

Hermione felt her heart sink at his words; their only hope for a cure had been Lucius Malfoy, but even he was saying that he did not know how to lift the curse. As if sensing her drop in spirits, Lucius turned back to face her with a serious expression, his mercurial eyes fixing her with an intense gaze that caused Hermione to be fixated.

"But there is no need to lose hope," he said smoothly as he watched Hermione wilt in her seat. "I have yet to learn of any cureless curses."

Although his words weren't exactly uplifting, Hermione felt her misery-drenched heart buck up a little at the thought that he was going to some length to reassure her that there would be a solution. Fighting back the tears of woe, she lifted her eyes to give him a brief smile of thanks which Lucius accepted with a curt incline of his head.

"I was trying to locate anything in the house that might help me when you entered the room this morning," Lucius explained to Hermione as she lightly dabbed at the corner of her eyes. "Do not think that I use the Dark Arts whimsically."

"Oh, I don't," Hermione said with a watery smile. "I thought the riddance of old Mrs Black was an extremely serious matter that required such heavy handling."

For once in all their time together, Lucius did not shoot her a look of contempt for voicing her sarcasm, but he even managed a tight smile, trying hard to refrain from looking affected by her humour. Hermione couldn't stop a small laugh erupting from her lips and she was heartened when she saw Lucius' lips twitch in a manner that was suspiciously close to being genuinely amused.

"I think I need some breakfast because I am about to get hysterical," Hermione breathed after her short burst of laughter. "Can we possibly talk after I've gotten some food into my system?"

"Very well, as long as you finish your job," Lucius conceded as he held out his arm, glad to have an excuse to stop smiling as he was wary that he might start enjoying the joke too much if they held out any longer. "I think it will actually serve us well to have you more conversant of what we are fighting against. It is hard to battle one's enemy when one doesn't know what their enemy looks like."

"Oh, I definitely agree," Hermione said as she stood up to swiftly and neatly tie a clean bandage around his wound. "You surprise me with your wisdom, Mr Malfoy. Don't take any offence, but truthfully, I never expected you to be capable of saying anything more than your usual pureblood propaganda," Hermione told him honestly, looking up into his eyes to gauge his reaction. There was a small twitch of his lips as he took in the compliment amidst the complaint and he gazed back with his usual pride.

"I am capable of many things," he drawled arrogantly and Hermione shook her head slightly at his condescending nature as she walked towards the door.

"I'm sure you are," she muttered with a small smile as she wondered at his ever-expanding ego.

She realised that her dampened mood had lifted greatly due to their little 'chat'. In fact, she was actually looking quite forward to spending an afternoon with him…


	11. XI

21\. Falling

Lucius watched the girl eat her breakfast with mild fascination from behind the open Daily Prophet he held in his hands. There was something definitely strange about Granger and it wasn't just any kind of strange. There was something about her that made him frown for two reasons; first, because he couldn't quite place what was so mysterious about her and second, because he couldn't quite handle the first reason.

The Granger girl didn't seem aware in the least by his studious eyes and went about eating her toast in a slightly stiff manner. Lucius supposed it was because she wasn't used to having to eat while he was sat opposite her in his usual armchair. He had walked straight past the long kitchen table on his way in and had settled in his seat, not wishing to sit on the hard, backless benches tucked beneath the table. Hermione had apparently decided the same for she had come over with a plateful of eggs on toast and sat in a nearby chair, munching slowly while looking thoughtful.

Lucius wondered what she was thinking about; he didn't quite know what to expect when it came to her mind for her behaviour often contradicted its state. He knew she was capable of acting like a responsible young woman, but she seemed to resort to behaving like a stubborn child a lot of the time. He guessed it was probably because she felt unstable or something similarly foolish and wanted someone to pay closer attention to her.

In some ways, he couldn't blame her; Potter was at work most of the time and wasn't very well-developed in the thinking department while Weasley didn't even count. In truth, he wasn't sure why someone like Granger would even want a boy like Weasley. It wasn't like he really cared whether the two young adults had a romance or not, but it was amusing for Lucius to ponder the reasons behind the strange pairing as he was on his way to dying out of sheer boredom.

He gave himself a sneer at the ridiculous thought; here he was, sitting in some ancient, dusty armchair, reduced to doing a psychoanalysis on two young people he truly didn't give a Knut about. The only time he had actually been given a chance to display some of his intelligence had been that morning when Granger had practically grovelled for him to enlighten her.

The first time he had seen the look of desperate desire to learn, he had been slightly disturbed by it. Never had he seen a young person display such a zealousness to learn, although he had heard of Hermione Granger's pathetic enthusiasm to know everything, according to Draco. He remembered the long afternoons spent tolerating his son's ranting about the little Muggleborn girl who could beat him in every subject that required half-a-brain. Oh, he knew that Granger was highly intelligent, but he had never actually believed that she was that eager to learn. However, his ego had been sufficiently pleased as he couldn't help but feel satisfied that at least someone had the decency to recognise his own intelligence…

There was a small cough and Lucius allowed himself to raise his head to shoot an enquiring look at the young witch, raising one of his eyebrows to add to the effect. He watched as the girl gave a few more coughs and hastily grabbed the glass of pumpkin juice that sat by her elbow to wash away the crumbs she was choking on. The sheer lack of grace in that particular act of emergency made Lucius sneer again before he turned back to pretending to read the paper.

He kept his eyes fixed on the printed words, but concentrated his senses on his sharp hearing. He heard Granger give a few more coughs before she set down the glass and tried to resume her eating. He had noticed earlier on that she was making great effort to devour her breakfast daintily, although how she was supposed to be elegant when she was eating toast with her fingers, Lucius didn't know.

He allowed his thoughts to drift as his ears caught nothing but the quiet sounds of toast being crunched and slowly lifted his eyes to examine the curious female again. One thing clicked; he had seen Granger wear only Muggle-styled clothes such as jeans and a jumper, but today, she was wearing witches' robes. Most unusual and out of character, Lucius noted to himself. Silently analysing his victim was perhaps the only activity available to him that did not border on plain stupid. After all, he was going to have to spend another few weeks with this girl. Possibly even months!

He wanted to shudder at that thought. As much as he strived to sort out the messy tangle of prejudices fixed inside his system, he had not completely forgotten that the girl before him was a Muggleborn. A plain old Muggleborn who had beat his own son in every class that they had had together. His brow twisted slightly as he grimaced at the thought of a schoolboy Draco. The first summer back from Hogwarts had consisted of a lot of childish boasting and strutting, which, ironically, Lucius had reprimanded him for while Narcissa had merely stroked their son's ego with a horrifying list of words of adoration. If there was one thing Lucius couldn't stand more than any blood purity issues, it was public signs of affection. He was a private man himself and didn't believe in cooing all over Draco and telling the world how brilliant his son was. Strangely, Narcissa, who had always shared the same sentiments as him, had suddenly changed at the point of Draco's birth and had abandoned the idea of raising their son with reserved affection.

That, in Lucius' mind, was what made women so weak. Open, loose affection only made one more vulnerable and contributed to the many reasons why he didn't believe in love. He could see the results of a failed 'love' sitting right there before him. Hermione Granger, supposedly the brightest witch of her age and perhaps even of her time, was in a mess because of some fool called Weasley. It made him want to give a hollow laugh; people who fell in love always came out as fools.

He was proud that he wasn't affected by such a flimsy, distastefully sappy emotion. Besides his affection for his son (which could be understood, seeing as they were direct relatives), he wasn't tied down to anybody. Well, perhaps Narcissa, but that was different. They were bound to each other because of their marriage, and there was no love to mention as far as Lucius was aware of, and he was a very perceptive man.

Then another thing clicked and he realised yet another reason as to why he thought the Granger girl entertaining to study. She had apparently been in love with Weasley and still seemed very much so. Having never felt the unnecessary feeling of something as pitiful as love, Lucius found it quite interesting to see how it affected even those who possessed fair intellect.

Granger was very emotional, and that had frustrated him incredibly in the beginning. He hated it when people couldn't keep their emotions to themselves and simply had to throw themselves around like some kind of drama queen. He had been taught the ways of pureblood etiquette and the austere teachings had weaved themselves into the very fibre of his soul. It had actually pained him to remain indifferent to Granger's tantrums and not react anymore than he had been forced to. Had it been his child making a fuss, he would have simply shut them up with a small smack of his cane. He had learnt discipline from his father who had been rather obsessed with maintaining hard order, and had watered the old man's vicious theories down so that he would only strike a child when absolutely necessary.

Lucius stopped his thoughts from starting on old Abraxas as he didn't really want to be enraging himself over the past. It was unfortunate; his mother had died while he was still a young child and his father had not reacted well to the death. Abraxas had hardly been kind to young Lucius and slowly but steadily, a thick wall of iron resentment had risen between them.

Lucius had hardly been sorry when his father had died.

Looking at the Granger girl, he felt thoughts of his father fade along with his age old resentment and concentrated on working out the complexities behind that incredibly unruly mane of bushy hair. Honestly, he didn't know what she thought about herself, but if he had a single strand of such offensive hair, he would have dealt with it a long time ago.

That led Lucius to conclude that Hermione Granger was someone who obviously didn't care much for her looks. Knowing the reputation of her powerful magic, he didn't doubt that she could make herself look at least a little pretty. But then again, maybe she too, didn't think much of beauty.

Her face was quite plain; nothing spectacular or even attractive. Yet there was a strange air of appeal in her clear, unblemished facial attributes. The only thing an onlooker could truly appreciate about her face was the aura of innocence and purity that radiated from her. Lucius wore a grim smile as he mused on the matter. There was something so obviously honest and open about the girl that it half-annoyed him and half-intrigued him. Having been a person who had only known innocence in the short, oppressive years of his childhood, Lucius didn't know quite how it could appear on one's face like that. Perhaps it really was just a mirror image of her innocent little soul. Or maybe he was just getting horribly sentimental.

He hid a small sigh in the sound of a turning page as he continued his pretence of perusing the uninteresting pages of the Prophet. Truly, who needed to read about a wizard from a famous band marrying some nobody when there was a much more interesting article of live flesh before his eyes? Humans were captivating at the best of times and there was nothing as entertaining for Lucius than to try and dismantle an opponent's mind piece by piece.

Last night, he had been more than angry at the girl for taking a good hack at his arm with that damned knife, but his anger had pooled away when he realised the golden opportunity it had brought. He no longer bore the mark of his once-master thanks to the possessed witch's desire to cut open his anatomy. It had taken a hard deal of concentration and magical power to get the poisoned fluid of the Dark Mark to flow out of him, but all the same, it had felt like a weight he hadn't noticed before was being lifted from his shoulders and liberating his trapped soul.

He knew he owed the girl his gratitude, but whoever heard of a Malfoy saying thank you for anything? And what more, whoever heard of a Malfoy thanking someone of impure blood? No, he wasn't ready for changes that were that drastic.

"Mr Malfoy?"

He looked up in a deliberately slow and unhurried manner as he lowered the paper slightly to look at the girl.

"Yes?"

He liked it when she bit her lower lip out of nervousness; it was a sign that she still found him intimidating and that pleased him very much. He was used to commanding respect out of fear and didn't see why Granger should be any different.

"Have you finished with the paper?"

He almost smiled in amusement when he heard the tentative tremor in her shy little voice and had to steel himself to looking indifferent and blank-faced or else he would spoil his own fun.

"Well, let me see…" he drawled ostentatiously as he glanced up and down the columns of the current two pages that were open to him. "I suppose it shan't kill me to allow you to read something with such a high level of adult content."

There it was; the expression he had been looking for. Granger had given up on her nervous, awkward act and was glaring at him outright. She seemed to forget she was supposed to be afraid of him as she scowled at his taunting. Usually, Lucius would never have stooped so low as to tease a child, but the dreary circumstances forced him to do something to keep his brain active and sarcasm was one of the only weapons he had against boredom.

"I am an adult, Mr Malfoy, and you would do well to remember it!" Hermione said, hissing the last two words as she leaned forwards to firmly pull the paper out of his hands and sit back in her own seat again. Lucius hid his smirk as best he could while heaving a small sigh designed to catch the attention of those who heard the noise.

"Your behaviour is somewhat lacking in adult mannerisms, Miss Granger," he said in a voice of mock kindness, giving her a false little smile as she lifted her face to glower at him. "Truly, the youth of today need to be introduced to the etiquettes of a polite society."

"Or a pureblood society," Hermione shot back before loudly raising a wall of rustling paper between them and at least pretending to read. Lucius guessed that she would be in a too aggravated mood to actually do any reading and even went as far as presuming she would probably abandon her current task to start a verbal war with him.

She didn't disappoint.

Approximately forty seconds passed before Hermione suddenly lowered the paper in a curt movement and directed her fiery brown eyes at Lucius. He knew better than to play cat and mouse as it could get so childish, but he simply couldn't resist. It would be for the better if she were to actually learn something from their little mind battles.

"Do you always cross your legs like that?"

"I beg your pardon?" Lucius said, feeling his smug look slip as surprise flittered across his face before he could mask it up. It seemed that Granger had stolen his smugness for she looked very alike to a cat who had got the cream. Lucius had to acknowledge her little victory as it wasn't everyday that a question from her caught him so off-guard.

"Or are you just relieving the pressure from your other leg and doing it the wrong way round temporarily?" she pressed on with a growing smile on her face. Lucius would have simply hexed her if he wasn't bound by the damn Vow. Honestly, she was questioning him on the most irrelevant of things and it was getting personal too. Anyone who had had a decent education would know not to discuss someone's legs or any other body parts while in public. Even if that opinion was a little old-fashioned, Lucius thought it safer to stick to it than going completely Weaslettish and saying something so ridiculous as to which way his legs were currently crossed.

"You really are a strange girl," he muttered with a small shake of his head while pretending to ignore her and staring into the fire in the grate that he had lit upon entering the room. His behaviour at the desired effect; Granger was having to reshuffle her cards as she fell subject to her own emotions and looked dearly aggravated at his continued insistence that she was still a child.

"And I suppose you aren't a strange man?" Hermione challenged him while Lucius allowed himself to take his time to turn his head and meet her gaze with his own icy one.

"A unique one, perhaps, but not a strange one," he answered in an obnoxiously calm voice before turning his eyes away to gaze back into the orange flames. He caught the sight of movement in the corner of his eye and saw that the girl was fluffing up the papers, huffing silently to herself. It really was quite rib-tickling to watch her wind herself up.

"You said you would tell me more about the Dark Arts," she said in a low tone, obviously struggling to sound as calm as himself. Lucius permitted himself to give the fire a little smirk before he turned back to his current ward.

"Ah, I do recall such a conversation," he admitted in his languid talk. "But it does require complete obedience on your part and no more of this childish baiting."

"You were the one baiting me! Not the other way round!" Hermione replied hotly, but Lucius simply raised a hand to cut her off.

"I am simply testing your reactions. You would do better to be less emotional and learn to keep in control of your own feelings," Lucius said arrogantly while he saw Granger struggle to keep her anger at bay. He was silently relieved that she managed to rein in her ire and faced him with a slightly calmer expression.

"Fine. No more childish baiting," she confirmed while Lucius gave a small nod to acknowledge her acceptance of terms.

"And you really should stop shouting, Miss Granger," he added as a last thought on the matter. "It really isn't very becoming for a young lady."

"Yes, sir," Hermione sneered in response before leaning back in her chair and waiting in silence for him to start his talking. Lucius ignored the last little bite of sarcasm from his listener and considered which bit of what he should tell her. He didn't want to disclose too much about the precious Arts as he thought it more satisfying to discover its greater secrets through one's own efforts. He didn't even know why he was deciding not to spoil it for the young witch before him, but there was something oddly satisfying about the idea that he might be able to stir this young innocent into pursuing a darker course. He certainly didn't doubt Granger's intelligence or magical skills, but she was far too stubborn for her own good. Maybe he might be able to change that one day. It would certainly make life involving her much easier…

"Ask me a question," Lucius ordered the girl, unable to think of a good starting point. He glanced down at Hermione to see her looking surprised, but had to wait only a delay of two seconds before the her mind pushed out a question.

"Why did you become a Death Eater?"

Lucius stared at her for a moment; she had caught him out again with such a long shot of a question and he found himself unable to answer for a full five seconds. When he had overcome the shock of her words, he cleared his throat a little awkwardly and fixed her with a steely look.

"I do not think that that is relevant to the solving of your curse," he answered stiffly, hating the uncomfortable position it put him in. There was no way he was going to explain his motives to her. He had never told anyone anything about his life and perhaps Narcissa was the only one living who knew a little of his history before his Death Eater years. It made him angry to receive such a bold request from a silly chit like her and he was forced to consciously calm himself to prevent a loss of control.

"But it is relevant!" Hermione stated fiercely with a small thump of her fist against the arm of her chair. "I need to know why you did what you did back at the Manor."

"I do not need to explain myself to you," Lucius bit in coldly, eyeing Granger with the same resentment that he had felt at the memory of his father. He was well aware that he had made many mistakes in his life, but it was too soon to face them yet when the wounds were still fresh and stinging. Not only would his pride be intolerably injured; his fear of having followed hollow truths throughout life would be confirmed. He ground his teeth at the thought of his own cowardice, but right now, he would rather go to hell and back then explain himself to some girl.

"Mr Malfoy?"

"What?" he snapped instinctively as he came out of his bubble of red anger by the sound of said girl's tentative voice. He took a deep breath to steady himself and voiced his response again in calmer tones.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

Looking into her large round eyes, he could quite clearly sense the nervousness in her and her fear of him. It made a bitter little smile twist onto his lips as he pictured himself through the girl's eyes; he must look like a monster indeed… It made him want to vent his anger in a million ways. The rage he harboured at everything in life had never been unleashed and he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep it bottled up any longer. The smallest of things would threaten to send him over the edge and he was beginning to lose the perfectly emotionless mask he had once been so proud to wear.

"Are you alright?"

Not again. She had caught him unaware for the third time with her questions. It was enough to make him want to strangle something there and then. No-one had ever asked him such absurd questions before and no-one had dared shake the earth beneath his feet. But this girl had somehow managed to make him feel a whirlwind of powerful emotions before he had a chance to even answer. Anger, rage, hate, spite, frustration, resentment, doubt and maybe even a little…fear?

"Fine," he managed to say through the torturous turmoil that was suddenly bubbling inside his mind.

He almost jumped when he felt a hand lightly touch his injured left arm and looked up sharply to see Hermione kneeling beside his chair while watching him with a slightly sorrowful expression. He could almost feel her sympathy brushing against him like some warm wind and it made him freeze in uncertainty. He had always known what to do and when to do it. Never before had he faced such uncertainty like now with the Granger girl offering her compassion for him to unleash his guilt. He had always ensured he had stuck to sure ground where he knew every footing and every crook and crevice. But now, it was like he was falling… Falling through space and unable to catch something to hold on to. Everything he had known was burning up before his very eyes and there was nothing he could do about it. He tried to think of something he knew to be true, but there was nothing…nothing…nothing… Just falling…

 

Hermione stared up at the older wizard and frowned in confusion; he looked so blank and devoid of life in that moment. His light grey eyes were glazed over while his unseeing gaze was fixed on some spot on the floor. Hermione wondered if he was feeling alright. Any previous annoyance and umbrage against him had disappeared from her mind like a whisper and all she could do was concern herself over his welfare. A part of her was asking why she even cared if Lucius Malfoy was suffering some kind of revelation while the other part of her ignored the question and simply tried to bring some life back into his rigid form.

She placed her hand back on his left arm and gave it a gentle squeeze, careful not to touch his wound. She felt a shiver of a breath and looked up to stare hard into his eyes and saw him blink a few times before his arm gave a small jerk and once again moved away from her grasp. She let him return to his senses, watching him intently for any signs of something being amiss. She let out a low breath of relief when she saw him turn his head to gaze at her with a small crease in his perfect brow, his eyes ever so slightly wider than usual.

Hermione didn't say a word; she just sat back on her legs and waited for him to say something. It was becoming increasingly worrying to see Lucius Malfoy unable to offer any sort of remark, be it biting or soothing. She wasn't sure if there had ever been a time when such a skilled diplomat had lost his tongue. Still, she waited and waited for something…

Lucius opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it shut again when he could obviously make no words form. Hermione gave him an anxious look and watched as his eyes just flickered with strange, unrecognisable emotions and he lost himself in a confused trance again.

Feeling increasingly worried, Hermione decided that bringing him back to this life was the only way to wake him up from his momentary loss of reality. She reached over and grabbed his hand, giving it a firm squeeze as she called his name.

"Mr Malfoy?"

His fingers flexed several times after she had called his name, but he continued to frown and look dazed, seemingly struggling to pull himself out of a stupor and regain control of himself. Hermione wondered with a terrible tremor of fear in her heart whether in his moment of sudden vulnerability, he had attracted the cursed spirit of Bellatrix and was being overtaken by her. That thought scared Hermione into trying harder to bring him back and fight off anything that was holding him captive.

"Mr Malfoy!"

"Don't go!" he suddenly choked out, his eyes turning a shade darker as a delirious expression swept across his face. Hermione wondered what he was talking about, but tightened her hold on his hand and squeezed as hard as she could, giving his hand a small shake afterwards.

"Mr Malfoy? Lucius?" Hermione called to him fretfully, abandoning his hand to grab his shoulder and give him a good shake. Any other normal circumstance, and he would have probably hexed her for even touching him, let alone shaking him so vigorously, but these were no normal circumstances.

"Mr Malfoy?" Hermione asked again a little breathlessly while Lucius was shaking his head in an effort to try and clear his thoughts. "Lucius?"

"Narcissa…" he answered back with a deep frown. "Where is Draco?"

"He's safe," Hermione assured him, feeling disturbed that he had just called her Narcissa and was obviously caught up somewhere else.

"Good," Lucius murmured in a weakening voice as he leaned back in his chair and managed to squeeze his eyes shut. "I am very afraid what the Dark Lord will do to him… We need to save him…"

"He's been saved, Mr Malfoy," Hermione said to him in a quiet, soothing tone as she released his shoulder to sit up, still kneeling. "Everyone's safe and Voldemort's gone."

"Ah… How beautiful…"

Hermione stared at him in confusion; she wasn't quite sure what exactly he was commenting on and decided not to reply but try and wake him by physical means. Gripping his upper arm, she gave it several tight squeezes, feeling a little red in the face from her effort to put all her strength into the grasps. She gave a small shriek of surprise when Lucius sat bolt upright and had his hand around her throat in a matter of milliseconds. She could see that his eyes were wide and he was suddenly breathing heavily like he had just woken from a bad dream.

They stared silently at each for a moment, both chests heaving and slight beads of sweat forming on either brow. Hermione inhaled deeply in relief when she felt his hand loosen around her neck and let go of her. She watched him lean back again in his chair, this time quite clearly awake and aware of his surroundings.

"Dear Merlin…"

"Are you feeling okay, Mr Malfoy? Do you need something to drink?" Hermione asked with concern while Lucius swept a hand over his somewhat ruffled hair and smoothed it back into place.

"Whisky," he said in a croak, his voice suddenly withered and his throat too dry.

"Stay right here," Hermione commanded like Madam Pomfrey might have done and hurriedly stood up to fetch him something herself. She could have called Kreacher, but she wanted something to do to keep her from fiddling with nervousness. She had never witnessed anyone have such a fixating flashback before, but she supposed that was what she was like when Bellatrix influenced her.

Opening a cupboard above the sink, she pulled out a glass tumbler and an unopened bottle of Firewhisky and hurried back to her patient, wanting him to wash away his trauma just as much as he wanted it. Lucius didn't voice his thanks and Hermione hadn't expected him to as he took the offered bottle and hastily popped the stopper off before taking a swig straight from the lips of the glass. Hermione didn't feel half as shocked as she thought she might have once felt. She had certainly never imagined Lucius to be anything short of gentlemanly in his acts and him drinking straight from the bottle was like her swearing her head off. Shocking, but somehow refreshing in the break of habits and expectations…

After several minutes of silently watching him drown his fears, Hermione quite suddenly took hold of the bottle and pulled it firmly out of his hands. When she was met with a pair of glaring grey eyes, she simply stuck out her chin in defiance and proceeded to march away back to the cupboard and replace the half-empty bottle back in its place.

"I was drinking that," Lucius stated from across the room.

"I know," Hermione replied as she closed the cupboard door and turned to walk back towards him. She continued to look at him with boldness but was secretly glad that he was able to talk again. When she came to sit down in her chair, she felt Lucius' eyes following her every move and decided to look up and catch him red-handed in the act of examining-with-scrutiny. However, when she looked up sharply to lock gazes with him, she found him staring back quite unabashed by his actions, and on the contrary, making her feel nervous and uncomfortable as if it had been she who had been watching him.

She wondered what was going through his mind. She was sure he wouldn't appreciate the fact that she had just witnessed him having a moment of severe weakness, but prayed it would teach him to accept that everyone had their moments.

Hermione saw him open his mouth to say something when there was a tap of talons against the window at the far end of the room above the sink and they both turned in their heads to see what it was. A bedraggled-looking owl was desperately trying to fly in, the hard raindrops lashing against its wet feathers. Hermione immediately leapt up from her seat to hurry across the room and open the window to let the poor creature in.

She didn't recognise the tawny brown owl, but guessed that she would find out who had sent a letter soon enough. With a lamenting hoot, the bird swooped onto the kitchen table and gave a strange squawk before collapsing in a heap of windswept and rain-drenched feathers. Hermione hurriedly relieved the owl of the tightly-rolled parchment that had been charmed with a spell to keep it dry from the rain and cast a Drying spell over the feathered messenger. She absent-mindedly gave it some leftover toast and allowed it to recuperate on the kitchen table while she walked back to her chair, unrolling the letter after she had checked that it was addressed to her. She felt Lucius' eyes on her again, but didn't look up this time as she was too busy reading the black-inked words.

Dear Hermione,

I am very sorry this is coming late, considering I should have written to you sooner about everything that happened last night. I can't begin to say how much I regret bringing Dahlia to the house and it pains me to think I hurt you. I'll just be plain honest with you; I don't really know what to write that will redeem me in your eyes. You have always been my closest friend along with Ron and the thought that I hurt you hurts me.

I can't think of anything to do except beg your forgiveness a thousand times and even then, I don't expect you to forgive me. I've been such a prick and I know I'm now getting what I deserve. 

One of the reasons why I only just got around to writing and posting this letter was because I spent most of the morning trying to kill Percy. Luckily, Kingsley was around to restrain me long enough to let Percy tell me his motives. He says that Ron came to see him and was looking real bad and Percy felt concerned for him. But when Ron told him about what's going on with you and that curse, Percy apparently felt even more concerned for you and decided to send someone in to check that Malfoy wasn't doing anything to burden you down. I actually realised that Percy's concern was genuine, so you'll have to try and forgive him as well, although I doubt you'll want to even consider it!

Percy got Dahlia in to do the job as she had said to him once that she hated Malfoy and every Death Eater's guts because her father was killed by them when she was young. Her mother died shortly after from grief and she and Romilda were left in the care of their grandma. So you can see why she tried to get Malfoy last night, but obviously, her behaviour is probably unforgivable as well.

Well, I hope you read this all the way through and my lousy explanations eased your pain a bit. I'm really missing you already and I want to come see you if you still want to be friends.

Yours always,

Harry

There were tears pouring out of Hermione's eyes as she finished the short letter. She couldn't stop the sobs escaping as her heart contracted and she heaved her lungs for air. Poor Harry! She had been so horrible last night, telling him to go away… Oh, she wanted to see him now and never let him go again!

Hastily wiping away her fierce torrent of tears, she turned to Lucius who was watching her as if he was observing an interesting species and cleared her throat to talk in a shaking voice.

"I need to go outside."

"Outside?" Lucius repeated with a raised brow and a puzzled expression. He seemed to have reverted back to his old expressions as soon as his mind had recovered.

"Yes. I – I just need to go for a walk," Hermione muttered as she tried to stem the burst water pipes that were forcing tears out of her so much that she could barely see.

"You really do have an eye for perfect weather conditions," Lucius said with a small sigh as she stood up.

"You don't have to come," Hermione said quickly, not wanting to make him dislike her even more for dragging him out when it was raining cats and dogs. She was all the more surprised when he rose after her and straightened his black robes.

"Well, I don't want you to drown," he drawled with a hint of his old humour returning while he pretentiously looked out at the lashing rain. "Potter would have my head on the banisters alongside the house-elves'."

Hermione couldn't quite contain the tiny, watery smile she gave him at his attempt to cheer her up and quickly walked out the room, Summoning a cloak to throw over her shoulders as she left the house, Lucius right on her heels.

 

Lucius felt like an imbecile, sitting on a bench in Grimmauld Square that he had dried with a spell and holding up an umbrella Hermione had unceremoniously shoved into his now-gloved hands, trying to make up for his having to come out in the rain, no doubt.

At least the lovely dull colour of the black rain-diverter pleased him, although he still found himself irritated at having to hold it up. Upon telling a tight-lipped Hermione that he would simply cast a waterproof spell over himself, she had pointed out in a few curt words that she didn't know many Muggles who could sit outside in a storm and remain thoroughly dry. He realised her point; any Muggle who looked out of their window would be able to see him sitting perfectly dry during torrential rain. Even he doubted whether Muggles were stupid enough to believe that that feat was possible in their world.

And so he was sitting with only an umbrella to keep the water off his head, but he found it strangely discomforting to see the Granger girl standing on the far side of the grubby square, looking out into the greyness of city life and completely oblivious to the cold rain now soaking into her hair and skin.

She had her back to him, but Lucius didn't have to think hard to imagine that she was still crying from that letter. Upon witnessing her reaction to it, he had guessed that either Potter or Weasley had sent it. There could be no-one else that Granger was so close to, besides her parents, and he highly doubted they had anything to write about that would make their daughter cry. If they did, then they were very poor parents indeed… Possibly more than him…

He wondered why she would be crying though; surely Potter or Weasley weren't idiotic enough to abandon their closest friend and send hate mail to her? Or perhaps she was just having another emotional moment. That wouldn't be new.

Truly, Lucius couldn't understand what was wrong with the girl. She had so many contradicting characteristics within her that he was surprised she hadn't torn herself apart in frustration. She possessed a good amount of intelligence and an eagerness to feed said gift, but she also had stubbornness riddled in her and had a fiery spirit. He knew that her anger was different from his; hers hadn't been built up from years of neglect and hate. No, hers was something of a defence mechanism; she would get irritated when she stood on unfamiliar ground and she pushed away doubts by being angry.

It was nothing new to Lucius; he had come across similar characters before, but never such qualities in a young witch. He had never heard of a girl of her age actually wanting to spend her days in a library, buried in books. Draco had often mentioned how knowledge-obsessed Granger was and it was only now that Lucius got a chance to ponder on the subject. He couldn't understand why she would want to study and read books all day. Young women like her should be out and about, doing…well, Lucius didn't really know what youngsters got up to these days, but it certainly wouldn't be reading books.

He almost felt pity for her as he watched her standing so alone in the rain, frizzy hair flattened from the mass weight of water and cloak sticking to her petite, lean frame. There was a definite air of melancholy about her and when she turned slightly to gaze sadly at some nearby bush, Lucius caught sight of the forlorn expression she was wearing. As much as he hated emotional moments, he couldn't deny that it made his own spirit flicker with doubt when he saw such weariness in so young eyes. It reminded him of his own son; so young yet so old.

He recalled the previous moments indoors when he had fallen prey to his own fears and weaknesses… He wasn't quite sure how he had managed to survive the shame, but somehow, he didn't feel half as bad as he thought he might have, considering he had just completely lost his dignity. Maybe it hadn't seemed so bad at the time because Granger had been rather…accepting…

He was suddenly on his feet as he saw his young charge sway on her feet and collapse in a muddied heap on the sodden ground. He discarded the umbrella by throwing it carelessly behind him as he swiftly strode across the short distance of a few metres and came to her side. It was like he was in automatic gear; there was no time to mull things over. No, he had a job to do and he had never failed to take his duty seriously before.

"Miss Granger?" he said, having to raise his voice slightly to be heard above the loud swishing of the trees' branches above them and the lash of wind and rain against his face.

"I – I…" Hermione said in a pained voice, sounding hollow and drained.

"Come," Lucius said to her firmly as he let go of his reserves to take her by the arms and pull her onto her feet. "You shall catch a cold sitting out here."

"I – I want…" Hermione began to say before tailing off as the effort cost her burdened soul too much.

"What do you want? Hmm?" Lucius asked as he paused in his mission to haul her back inside and turned her around so that she faced him. He was aware that she was about to fall again and kept a tight grip of her arms, casting his eyes searchingly over her paling face. He could feel the icy rain soaking through all his thick clothing, but he couldn't imagine the girl was any warmer than him, considering that she had been standing in the horrendous weather for half-an-hour while he had only just emerged from beneath the umbrella.

"What did you want?" he prompted her again, frowning as he tried to work out what she might be wanting to say. He saw her face tilt upwards to look at him and saw that her lips were turning a delicate shade of blue. Not a good sign.

"Perhaps we should get you inside first," he said as he took a step towards the gate of the park. He stopped when he felt resistance and turned back to see what was wrong. Large, tear-filled hazel eyes were gazing at him with such a strong sense of hopelessness that he himself was thrown into uncertainty. He felt hands grab the front of his robes as the tears spilled from Hermione's eyes and mingled with the rainwater running down her cheeks.

"I want to die!"

Lucius felt a small jolt shock him as if someone had just struck him a blow, and stared down in surprise at the weeping girl in front of him. He had presumed that Granger was very upset over something and probably just being emotional, but wishing for death? That was going too far, even for an emotional girl like her. He was sure she was the type to who would never succumb to death that easily. She had such a fighting spirit, he found himself a tad disappointed to see it leave her. Not that he would ever admit it.

"How about getting you inside?" he suggested, unable to think of anything else to say. What was one supposed to say to such a morbid exclamation?

"No!" Hermione cried in desperation, clutching at his lapels with fervent hands and scrunching up face in anguish of the heart. "I can't take it anymore! Just let me die and be rid of this pain!"

Lucius inhaled deeply and wiped off the impatient look on his face. Honestly, it was acceptable to feel miserable and melancholic when you were laden with a curse whose cure was yet to be discovered, but asking for death?

"You will get nowhere by asking for such an easy escape!" Lucius told her sharply, making his voice deliberately hold a tone of harshness to instil some sense back into her. He felt her hands loosen on his robes and she lifted her sorrowful eyes to stare at him.

"You choose to avoid your own fears if you wish to evade this pain. Death is the easy way out, Miss Granger," Lucius told her fiercely, tightening his fingers around her arm to give her a little shake. "You will only get somewhere if you fight. Fight for what you believe in!"

Lucius was breathing hard by the end of his sudden burst of passionate words and he could see Hermione was equally stunned to hear him say something so close to the truth. Taking a few calming breaths, he loosened his hold on her arms, but didn't let go, wary that she might still be too weak to stand on her own.

"Oh…"

Lucius waited for her to say something more, but had to lunge forwards when he saw her eyes roll back and her body collapse. Grimacing from the sudden twinge of pain that shot up his back at the straining movement, he took hold of the limp figure and slid his arms beneath her to lift her up. He pulled a face as the mud mixed with the rain and soiled all their clothes, but he knew that keeping his clothing clean was not even on his priority list at that moment.

Carrying the unconscious girl uncomfortably in his arms, he headed back towards the house, hoping that there were no nosy Muggles peering out their windows. He really didn't know when he had given up on some of his more illogical pureblood ideals, but he was sure carrying unconscious females was not part of his life policies…

Ah well… She needs to be carried by someone, seeing as her ridiculous friends have gone and abandoned her…

As he strode up the steps of Number Twelve, Lucius gave himself a small smile of irony as he realised what things had led them to.

He had been saved from his eternal fall by the arms of compassion. Now, it was his turn to catch his catcher.

 

22\. Learning by Candlelight

I'll make sure you regret it… There's something out there, Harry… Answer me, Mudblood! Hermione, I'm sorry… Do not speak of that which you know nothing of! You really are a strange girl… You will only get somewhere if you fight. Fight for what you believe in! Hermione… Hermione… Hermione…

The sound of the hard rain lashing against the cold window panes and the combined smell of musty damp and burning wood slowly brought Hermione to her senses. She groaned quietly as the last of her distorted dreams faded into blackness and the aches of reality sprung upon her conscious form. Her throat felt dry and raspy while she felt cold, so cold…

"Ah, you are awake."

Hermione cracked open a weary eye to locate the owner of the voice and opened her other eye as well to steer her gaze towards the tall, black-swathed figure standing by her. She had to strain her ocular muscles to look up at his pale face, but her strenuous effort was rewarded by the locking of his cool grey eyes as he looked down at her with an expressionless mask fixed upon his countenance.

"I'm cold," Hermione said in a hoarse whisper, unable to speak any louder. She dropped her gaze back down to study where she was and realised that she was lying on the couch in the drawing room, a large fire merrily dancing in the grate of the marble hearth. Yet despite the friendly sight of leaping orange flames, she didn't feel the warmth that fire was supposed to bring. She looked up when she heard a small exhalation of impatience and saw the tall form of Lucius slowly bend over her to pull a blanket bunched up around her legs that she hadn't noticed before up to her chin and stare at his handiwork for several seconds with a frown.

"Thank you," she rasped out as she tried to restore her body heat by snuggling in the thick wool blanket and trying not to shiver. Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to concentrate on how she had got into such a pitiful state and quickly snapped her eyes open again when she remembered.

"The letter!"

"Pardon?" Lucius asked in surprise at her sudden exclamation, but Hermione didn't stop to think over the matter.

"Harry's letter! What happened to it?" she asked in a rising panic, jerking up to try and sit upright, in spite of her body's adversity to the sudden and painful move.

"I have it here," Lucius answered calmly as he pulled out a slightly crumpled and water-marked letter from the pocket of his black slacks and placed it in the outstretched hand of Hermione. Feeling a wave of relief wash over her, Hermione lay back and breathed deeply as her adrenalin evoked from her previous alarm slowly melted away. She closed her eyes and lay on her back, waiting for her heart to stop thumping so madly and her senses to regain their sharpness. Questions could be answered in the meantime…

"How long have I been asleep?" she asked quietly, eyes still firmly shut as she couldn't help listening to the complaints of her groaning bones.

"Three hours," the smooth voice of Lucius told her.

"Three hours…?" Hermione repeated in hushed astonishment, opening her eyes to gaze at Lucius in bafflement. "Have you been here all this time?"

"Indeed," he answered indifferently as he drew up one of the old armchairs to the fireside and sat down. "You are ill."

"Oh," Hermione said in acceptance, wondering why she hadn't figured out that last bit on her own. After all, it was rather obvious, considering the general symptoms of feeling horribly cold and tired, but her brain was simply unable to articulate anything other than basic thoughts.

"I suggest you get some rest," Lucius said curtly as he watched her from his chair. Hermione felt her eyelids droop at the very mention of 'rest' and couldn't find either the will or desire to fight the sleep invading her system. She didn't fuss when her senses began to disperse and melt into obscurity, but let everything ripple over her. Just as she felt her vision darken, her mind churned out one last thought.

Thank you for helping me…

 

Lucius watched the girl's eyelids flutter close and sighed quietly to himself. Three hours ago, he had managed to carry her unconscious form up the stairs and laid her on the couch, after having decided that he didn't feel like wasting more of his energy and carrying her up another flight of stairs to her own room. She had felt cold to the touch and her complexion had held a pallor that had told him she was unwell.

He supposed the mixture of emotional upheaval and physical relapse caused by the harsh elements had led to the sorry state that the Granger girl was now lying in. He didn't know who was more unfortunate at this predicament; the girl, for having to suffer the illness, or him, having to suffer the caretaking of the little invalid.

He gazed at her sleeping form with a mirthless smile, wondering how it was possible to be so inconveniently emotional. He had never encountered someone quite like Granger, and it amused him to take her character apart piece by piece and try to come to some sort of conclusion about her. Studying and scrutinising people was an old habit of his which he had picked up ever since…well, a long time ago. His survival as a respected and feared man had relied upon his ability to judge characters accurately. Having been blessed with an acute sense of perception, he had never found it terribly difficult to read anyone and the skill had allowed him to keep out of trouble for the greater part of his life.

However, he was having difficulty foreseeing every thought and move of the girl. He had initially thought that Granger was annoyingly predictable with her emotional ways, but there were some aspects about her that continued to mystify him. He couldn't quite understand how she could be so full of the compassion that had become more of a myth to him. Even though his son had bullied her throughout their years at Hogwarts and he himself had been less than benevolent towards her and her kind, she didn't seem to hate him quite as much as he had expected.

Perhaps it was because he had given up any idea of trying to curse her at every chance he got, but she seemed to be getting more and more trusting of him, much to his surprise. True, he wasn't putting his old venom into his jibes, but then again, he had realised he had lost his bite ever since leaving Azkaban. There were some things that simply couldn't survive the hellish, harsh environment that the wizarding prison created.

He glanced at the rumpled letter she was clutching in one hand and mused on the content which he had read out of sheer boredom while waiting for the girl to regain her senses. He was well aware that invading others' privacy like that wasn't exactly noble, but then again, he hadn't been placed in Slytherin for nothing.

The slightly messy scrawl that adorned the letter had made Lucius sneer in the beginning; anything less than perfect did often catch his sharp eyes. When he had finished reading it through, the wonky writing was more than expected, seeing as it was from Harry Potter himself. Lucius had never thought the boy to be particularly bright; just very lucky on more than one occasion. No, neither Potter nor Weasley were quite as intellectual as the other third of their trio. Having had a somewhat petulant son attending school in the same year as the three Gryffindors had allowed Lucius to form the idea of their strengths and weaknesses.

Harry Potter was, according to the eleven-year-old Draco, an annoying, stupid prat who liked to show off on his damn broom like he owned the place. Apparently, Potter had also managed to do some ridiculous stunts such as beating a troll without getting into any trouble with Dumbledore whatsoever. Lucius, at the time, had listened to the childish narration from Draco without much thought; he really didn't care what this Potter boy could do at school. The only thing that mystified him about Potter was how he had managed to defeat the Dark Lord when he was only an infant. Meeting him a year later in Flourish and Blotts had proved that Lucius' suspicions about the boy being something greater and possibly harbouring Dark magic were simply wrong. There was nothing spectacular about Harry Potter that he could identify and the only reason that he learnt to dislike him was due to Dumbledore's great protection and favouritism of him.

Thinking about it all made the old feelings of deep irritation rise up in Lucius again and he had to concentrate on emptying his mind for several quiet moments to calm himself. He turned his eyes back to the sleeping girl to try and bring himself back to the present. It would not do to get stuck on the past; he knew from experience that being unwilling to change could bring some unfavourable events that forced change upon the averse.

Lucius himself was the very paradigm of sudden change; a year ago, he would have never dreamed of watching over a slumbering Granger, being forced to hope that she would recover swiftly more for his sake than hers. A pureblood like him should have been balking at the idea of protecting a Muggleborn and if Bellatrix were alive, Lucius was certain that he would be officially labelled a Blood-traitor. However, he neither hated Granger nor liked her; she was simply an object of curiosity and mystery for him; a puzzle yet to be solved. Of course, he had hated her previously for the sake of his son, seeing as Draco seemed to loathe her rather vigorously. He supposed it was because his poor son wasn't quite as intellectually blessed as Lucius himself and he had no doubt that the Granger girl had beaten him at school grades with infuriating ease.

Yes, Granger was remarkeably intelligent; he could give her that. But she was still infuriatingly emotional and unable to control herself which irked him terribly. Being a man who had been raised to believe in rigid self-control, it aggravated him when others couldn't do the same. In any other situation, he would have simply avoided any individual who caused him so much frustration, but this was different. He was actually having to survive living with the Granger girl; that meant they would have to address each other at some point during the day. If she refused to remain quiet and decorous, he was going to have to teach her some manners, whether she liked it or not. He couldn't handle sharing breathing space with anyone less refined than himself and transforming Granger seemed the only option available to him. It would undoubtedly be a struggle, but he had always liked a good challenge.

He really needed to teach the girl some decent Occlumency; that would be the first step. He quashed the remembrance of the embarrassing events that had occurred last time he had tried to teach her; getting Granger to learn that skill was far more important than worrying over some unintentionally witnessed private memories.

Perhaps he could make something of her yet.

 

A sudden clatter of china hitting the carpeted floor caused Hermione to wake again. Blinking groggily, she looked around the dimly-lit room to pinpoint the source of the noise that had disturbed her from her flickering dreams. Her bleary eyes settled on the figure which she presumed was Lucius, stirring in the armchair she had last seen him in. The lack of light besides the little glow shed by the fire left his lean frame in silhouette, obscuring the details of the expression he was wearing as he reached down towards the cracked cup and saucer at his feet. Hermione watched silently as half his face appeared in the line of the firelight and made him look like he was wearing a half-mask of shadow. He didn't seem to realise that she was awake and went about picking up the offending pieces of china without so much as a glance in her direction.

Hermione felt much warmer than she had before and she was also able to string together coherent thoughts of her usual intellectual calibre. The welcome transition allowed her to presume that Lucius had managed to knock off an empty cup and saucer from the arm of his chair, either due to him having a sudden moment of unrefined movements of his arm, or perhaps even nodding off towards sleep.

Either way, they were both fully awake now, and Hermione felt much better. She cleared her throat quietly to catch his attention and saw him immediately straighten up, broken china still in one hand.

"Miss Granger," he drawled as he waved a wand-bearing hand and lit up the low candles in their brackets along the wall of the drawing room. "Are you feeling any better?"

Hermione knew that he was asking out of mere courtesy as she knew there was little reason for him to be interested in her wellbeing without a decent, profit-related motive. Still, she hadn't recovered quite enough energy to challenge his condescending tone of voice, and replied with a meek little 'yes'. She frowned a little when she noticed a strange look flitter across his usually unreadable face. Had he looked…pleased?

She had no time to ponder the matter any further as the wizard stood up and made the useless cup and saucer vanish with a casual flick of his wand. He really had quite an admirable technique regarding wands… Elegant, yet definitely powerful. Perhaps she could learn from him…

"I suppose you would like something to eat?" he asked imperiously with a raised brow, a look which was becoming rather familiar to Hermione.

"Yes," Hermione answered quietly, still unable to raise her tired voice any further. And then, on second thoughts she added, "please."

"Well, I'm sure the elf will be more than ecstatic to know that he has some more work to do," Lucius remarked in a deliberately nonchalant manner, aware that Hermione had been and still was to some extent, a pioneer in some elf rights movements that Draco had once mentioned to him. The sullen expression on her face told him he was very much correct.

"Now, are you able to walk?" Lucius pressed on a little impatiently, not wanting to hang around any longer when he had his own hunger to sate.

"I – I think so," Hermione replied as she slowly sat up, feeling a little rush of dizziness sweep through her head before everything cleared and she felt stable enough to pull back the warm blanket and swing her legs off the comfy couch. She felt Lucius' narrowed eyes on her the entire time it took to get up to standing position and it made her somewhat nervous. Being under such sharp scrutiny of someone so obviously well-trained in the art of elegance made her feel like she had when she was a teenager; awkward, gawky and extremely plain. Hanging around with Ginny had taught her to harden herself against feeling depressed at not being beautiful, but that resolve she had made years ago seemed to have disappeared as she now stood in the same room as someone possessing such enviable, patrician features.

She had little time to spare herself any self-pity as Lucius gave a curt nod of approval at her recovery before he turned on his heel and made for the door. Hermione breathed out a small sigh at what remained of her funny little life and proceeded to follow the sound of his expensive black robes swishing quietly in the dark corridor.

 

Dinner was served in silence except for the occasional remark of the wizened old Kreacher and his words of praise for 'Master Malfoy' that he was unable to withhold. Hermione did notice the smug little look that fluttered across Lucius' face, but was too busy with her own concerns to make any effort to glare at him.

She was very self-conscious throughout the meal, choosing to sit as upright as she could and remembering not to slacken and slouch. She was very nervous to be eating under the cold, watchful eyes of Lucius and tried to hide her quivering anxiety as best she could.

It had to be one of the most surreal moments in her life; Lucius Malfoy was the least expected dinner companion she could ever have and thinking about their previous enmities made her feel bewildered at the situation they were now in. It was more than odd and previously thought impossible that one of the greatest Muggleborn-haters in the past decade was calmly dining opposite an extremely stubborn Muggleborn who firmly believed in equality. It didn't really make sense to Hermione, but she decided to let the matter go, her head still too blank to contemplate the subject any longer.

She had the strangest feeling that she was on some kind of…date. Kreacher had apologised for the lack of candles and had instead, set up an elaborate candelabra of the Black family's finest silver which the elf had somehow managed to rescue from the clearout of items belonging to the family several years ago. Simple red candles stood in the candelabra, lighting up the table and casting a warm glow over the little feast that Kreacher had cooked. There was a strangely romantic hint about the pinkish gold light of the candles, but any further exploration of the suggestion was severely crushed by the presence of her fellow diner; Lucius Malfoy.

There was nothing about Lucius Malfoy that could be linked to romance in the least. Every inch of his face was about as icy as the arctic and even the occasional fold in his immaculate attire looked cold and frosty. Hermione supposed that the coldness surrounding him was largely due to the steely colour of his eyes. Any little romance she had ever read would have mentioned something about the eyes radiating warmth and happiness. Looking into Lucius' eyes was like diving into the ice; it really wasn't all that pleasant and any notion of connecting the two opposite things of Lucius and romance was horrendously laughable.

"Miss Granger, why don't you try eating your food rather than staring at me," Lucius suggested coolly as he carefully cut up his meal into delicate little morsels.

"Sorry," Hermione muttered with her face burning in embarrassment. She hadn't realised she had been staring at him while mulling over such trivial thoughts.

"And do try and sit up straight. I have never seen anyone with such a terrible posture in my entire life," Lucius added haughtily before he turned his attention back to his food and began eating. Hermione felt her usual ire prick her a little, but after weighing her options, she realised that she didn't want to waste any energy on fighting back when she needed it to recover fully. She would be good and obedient just this time to avoid any more urges to snap at Lucius.

"Your manners are in need of polishing; it is rather unbecoming to eat like an ape when I know that you are capable of behaving like something closer to a human being," Lucius drawled patronisingly while Hermione paused her eating to direct a glare at her plate and rein in her anger. If she didn't know better, she would think that he was deliberately baiting her…

"Of course, you can almost be forgiven for your poor conduct since I can't imagine either Potter or Weasley being much better than animals at the table," Lucius continued, not bothering to even look up from his own meal but speaking almost as if musing to himself.

"Harry and Ron are not animals!" Hermione snapped, dropping her fork to her place with a sharp clatter that rung disagreeably in the ears. She had given up trying to ignore his well-aimed jibes and was now glowering directly at the pale-faced man, determined to tell him to go bin his ridiculous snobbery if he wanted to avoid hexes by her wand. Lucius had looked up to meet her eyes at the sound of her dropped cutlery and he had wasted no time in giving her a condescendingly raised eyebrow.

"I never said they were, so please stop making such a din, Miss Granger. My appetite is waning with all the hideous racket you're making," Lucius told her calmly as he resumed eating again. Hermione silently fumed, feeling her nerves grating loudly as the miserable state of being semi-ill mixed with feeling tired produced an unholy compound of irrational, bad temper. Seeing Lucius so serene didn't help improve her dark mood greatly, but she knew that there was only one way to match him in his skilled aggravation. Throwing tantrums had never gotten her anywhere when she was rebelling against her bigoted protector and she was going to beat him at his own game with whatever method she could, even if it killed her.

Lucius made an ostentatious show of noticing her inner conflict and paused in his perfectly-mannered eating to eye her thoughtfully.

"You should eat up, Miss Granger. It is vital for you to maintain your energy levels if you wish to get better," he told her matter-of-factly while Hermione gave a small sigh of defeat.

"Yes sir," she muttered wearily as she gave her remaining food a prod and cut small bites to put in her mouth. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lucius' lips twitch a little in what would have formed a smile. It brought her back to what she had been pondering about before; how had she got into this situation?

She was sitting in the same room as Lucius Malfoy and actually eating dinner with him, although they weren't exactly interactive with each other throughout the quiet meal. The strangest thing that now struck Hermione, was the realisation that she didn't hate him any longer. She still didn't like him, but she didn't hate him either. That caused the ever-familiar confusion to swirl in the depths of her mind as she tried to figure everything out.

She could understand complicated theories in books that no-one else seemed to be able to comprehend, yet she couldn't decipher the simple motives of her own emotions. She had once been someone who wrinkled her nose at the idea of being a Lavender or Parvati – bursting into tears over the most trivial things and being all emotional – but the horror of the situation sprung on her when she came to the conclusion that she wasn't far off from being as emotional as them.

True, her circumstances were a little different than that of a normal girl, but she personally didn't think it was much of an excuse to be so emotional. The problem was, her mind reluctantly agreed with Lucius' disdain at her constant raging of overwhelming feelings, but strangely, her heart would not obey the power of her mind and would continue twisting her fragile nerves around until she would burst into helpless tears. She hated being so weak; she hated being so pathetic and girly, but there was little she could do about it. Unless…

"Miss Granger, I have decided that you should learn Occlumency again, this time successfully, so that you are able to fight the curse if needs be," Lucius stated as if he had just heard Hermione's train of thought.

"Oh," Hermione answered as she lowered her fork to avoid dropping it. Her evident surprise was not only at his suggestion, but his frighteningly accurate target. She absent-mindedly wondered if he was a good Legilimens.

"Will you be making a further reply, or should I take it that you are adverse to the idea?" Lucius asked with a raised brow, setting down his knife and fork on his empty plate. Hermione immediately jerked upright at the very mention of a rejection and hurriedly shook her head.

"No, I mean, yes, that would be wonderful, Mr Malfoy," she answered, stumbling over her own words as she tried to put them in the right order. The effort made her blush a little in embarrassment; she didn't like to know that someone had just witnessed her losing the power of intellectual speech. However, she had gotten used to Lucius witnessing a fair number of embarrassing moments.

"Good," Lucius remarked with an approving nod. "And I trust we will not have a replay of the – ah – thwarting moments we suffered last time?"

"Of course," Hermione agreed with a few more nods, trying hard not to redden at the memory of the last time she had tried to get a good grasp of the skill. It had been short of a major disaster.

"Well, since we have clarified that matter, I shall be retiring for the night," Lucius said as he stood up from the table and glanced at her with a brow raised questioningly. Hermione took it as her cue to announce that she was going to be returning to her room also and rose before she spoke.

"Me too," she murmured without bothering to look at him as Kreacher appeared out of nowhere to bustle around them, clearing up the evidence of a well-savoured meal with a jolly croak of his withered voice.

Hermione gave a small word of thanks to the house-elf as she passed him on her way towards the open door and received a small jerky bow that had greatly improved since her first meeting with him. She had to admit that despite having slept for several hours, she was beginning to lose strength again and was quite looking forward to lying down. Maybe she could read a book or something to lull herself to sleep. The thought put a smile on her face as she walked out into the hallway, hearing Lucius follow her lead in his quiet, well-measured steps.

They ascended the first staircase in silence and Lucius paused before the door of his room to watch Hermione enter the drawing room with narrowed eyes. Hermione ignored him but walked straight over to the small bookshelf over in one corner of the room which had been filled with a small collection of various tomes. Her searching fingers stopped on an old leather-bound book on the history of ancient wizarding families that she hadn't had the chance to read since Harry had procured it a week ago. Both she and her best friend had become very interested in knowing more about the old families as they, unlike Ron, had never been told about the ancestors of the wizarding world.

She pulled out the fairly small book and tucked it neatly under her arm before leaving the room. When she came out, she glanced to her right to see Lucius still standing outside his door, obviously waiting for her to re-emerge.

"Any problems, Mr Malfoy?" she asked him in a voice that was still rather quiet, trying not to sound too insolent.

"I was just making certain that you went up to your own room to sleep. It would hardly do to spend the night in the drawing room," he answered smoothly before falling silent, as if waiting for her to say something. Hermione felt like she should say something as well, but she wasn't sure just what. She turned her gaze to glance down at the book she was now clutching to her chest to lighten the awkwardness settling amidst the quietude. When she looked up again, she was met by his light grey eyes that glowed silver in the dim candlelight and felt the intensity of his gaze stir her slightly. There was a small trace of a frown twisting his brow and he seemed to be looking at her like one who had yet to figure out a deeply complex puzzle. She wondered what he was thinking…

"Well, er, good night, Mr Malfoy," she said to save herself from fidgeting even more in nervousness. He seemed to be scrutinising her carefully and it unnerved her somewhat.

"Will you be needing anything else, Miss Granger?" he enquired in his haughty tone, his words a little vague, but clear enough to Hermione. She was touched at the words of concern, although she knew full well that it was merely obligatory on his part.

"No, just a good book and I'm fine," she said with a swift smile. However, she regretted her words of rejection immediately upon speaking them as she realised that a guard and companion would have been more than welcome in the frightening loneliness of the deserted upper floor of the house. But she didn't want to act like more of a fool and ask him to accompany her; her pride simply wouldn't allow her to announce her change of decision to him.

So, instead, she unintentionally gave him an agitated look and forced herself to turn around to take herself up the next flight of stairs to the second floor where her bedroom was situated. The light was even weaker up there and the roaming shadows reminded Hermione all too well of her fears. Suppressing an endless wave of shudders, she hurried along the wide corridor once she had climbed the stairs and walked quickly to her room, not wanting to look behind her in case she saw something that wasn't supposed to be there.

Upon entering her dark room, she quickly lit it up with a fresh candle and closed the door behind her. Using her wand, she drew the heavy curtains of old purple velvet and changed into her usual white nightdress for bed. She paused beside her bed stiffly when she saw something flicker in the shadows out the corner of her eye. Clutching her wand tightly, she turned her head slowly to look in the dark corner of the room where she had thought she had seen something and was relieved to find that there was nothing there but the rough silhouette of her wardrobe. Releasing a weary sigh, she pulled back the covers to her bed only to see the hideous instrument of cruelty lying in the middle of the white sheet covering the mattress.

Bellatrix's silver knife lay deceivingly harmless and innocent in the slight dip in the bed where Hermione usually lay. The flickering light of the candle on the bedside table made it gleam as if there was a silver glow pulsating from it that silently beckoned for Hermione to touch it. Biting back a scream, Hermione dropped the book she had been about to read and let go of the edge of the bed coverlets from her trembling hands before backing away and turning around to run to the door.

She couldn't stop the scream this time when she saw the dreaded face of the unknown dead hovering in the air, inches away from the curtains. The yellow eyes stared unblinkingly at her while the corner of the blue-tinged lips curled slightly in a deathly grin. Hermione leapt to the door to fling it open, only to give another shriek at seeing a somewhat startled Lucius standing just in front of her, one hand raised as if he were about to knock.

"Is everything alright, Miss Granger?" he asked in barely concealed surprise while Hermione gripped the comforting wood of the doorway and took a few gulping breaths to calm herself. She gave a small shake of her head as she tried to recover from her state of panic.

"What is it?" she heard Lucius ask in a low voice.

"The knife… It's – it's in my bed!" she gasped out before bowing her head and shutting her eyes tightly as a wave of dizziness swept over her. She quickly opened her eyes again when she felt two fingers lightly touch under her chin and prompt her to raise her head to look up into the eyes of the only help she was going to get.

"What else?" Lucius asked in a quiet voice, eyes looking over her face searchingly.

"I – I saw the face as well. The dead face that I always see in my dreams," Hermione muttered nervously as she wrapped her arms around herself in a hug. Lucius gave a slight nod before he gestured for her to show him to where the curse's tools had appeared. Hermione quickly turned and walked back into the room, eyes glancing over to the curtains and felt a small blossom of relief at seeing nothing there but the dark folds of the rich material. She stopped a good distance away from her bed and pointed to where the knife glittered against the white of the bed sheets. She felt Lucius' soft robes brush past her as he walked to the edge of the bed, his wand in hand.

Fear crackled through her nerves as she waited apprehensively for a peace of mind. Lucius had trained his wand's aim on the knife, but was taking a second too long to be rid of it as he gave it a wary appraisal.

"Please! Just make it disappear!" Hermione suddenly cried at him, causing him to jerk slightly to attention and hurriedly mutter a spell whose incantation Hermione didn't quite catch, not that she wanted to.

Exhaling loudly in relief, she leaned against the wall and let her body sag as the fear slowly drained out of her. She closed her eyes to block out any more unwanted visages and listened to the beat of her own heart to try and calm down. There was the sound of heels clicking smartly against the wooden floor and robes swishing, followed by the slight scrape of a book against the floor as Lucius picked up the volume that had been dropped.

Hermione opened her eyes when she heard him approach her and found herself unable to do anything but gaze into his pale irises as she found her body unresponsive to her mind's commands. She continued to stare at Lucius as he came to stand a few feet away from her, eyeing her with an unfathomable expression lingering on his sharp features.

There was another silence between them as they simply stared at each other for a moment, neither able to say anything as the aftershocks of yet another fragment of the curse reverberated through their minds. Hermione found this silence eerily bearable; she was gazing straight into his eyes, but there was nothing in the act that united them in any way. She had always been reluctant to meet people in the eye when talking with them, but with Lucius, she felt as if she could simply stare into his eyes all day and all she would see was her own reflection.

She had heard that emotions could always be seen in someone's eyes, even if their face could hide any expression, but Lucius' eyes could be as empty as a black hole. There didn't seem to be any emotion that could fill the gap.

Snapping herself out of the increasingly strong hold his empty eyes were having over her, she blinked rapidly several times and cleared her throat.

"Th-Thank you, Mr Malfoy."

Lucius gave a curt nod in acceptance of her gratitude before he handed her the book he was holding in his hands.

"It is late. You should get some sleep," he answered in a cool, detached voice.

"Yes," Hermione agreed obediently as she stepped away from him and hurried into bed, having first checked that there was nothing else unexpected on it. She pushed up her pillows so she could sit up slightly in bed to read her book and looked over at Lucius who hadn't moved from his spot.

"Would you like me to stay?" he asked in a clinical, indifferent manner that he always used when making such obviously disagreeable offers. Hermione paused for a moment before giving a firm nod in reply. She didn't want to regret her choices again and be left on her own with nothing but her insufferable pride for company. She watched as Lucius closed the door with a wave of his wand and drew up his usual chair to sit at her bedside. He glanced over at her and then down at her book, a slight frown forming along his brow.

"I just want to read a page or two," Hermione explained quickly and a little anxiously. "Reading always calms me down."

"I see," Lucius responded apathetically before narrowing his eyes as he read the title of the book. "An interesting read, I can guarantee you."

"Yes, well, me and Harry have become interested in wizarding history ever since he discovered his heritage," Hermione said as she opened the weathered book and began feeling the familiar engrossment she felt whenever she read a book.

"Heritage?" Lucius' voice asked from her side while Hermione looked down the table of contents.

"Mm… He's descended from the Peverells. Do you know much about them?" she asked absent-mindedly as her nerves quietened down and her heart returned to its normal rate.

"Miss Granger," Lucius responded slowly with a hint of exasperation. "You are talking to a pureblood who knows the entire genealogy of wizarding families backwards."

Hermione looked up at him then and stared at him in surprise; she had actually forget just whom she had been talking to in the last few moments. She could see that now, his eyes were filled with something that could be called mild amusement.

"Oh, sorry," she muttered in embarrassment as she turned back to her book.

"I shall forgive you this time," he drawled in his deliberately arrogant manner while Hermione felt the old urge to roll her eyes at him.

"However, you still have a lot to learn."

Hermione had to agree with him; she still had so much to learn and she wanted to know everything there was to know. Well, she could start with tonight. She would enlighten herself on the subject of wizarding ancestry by reading.

Lucius watched as she began devouring the knowledge of the ancients. He sighed to himself as he made himself comfortable in his chair. It looked like Granger was going to be reading for a while and it was going to be a very long night for him.

23\. Beliefs and Believing 

"The knife was in her bed?"

"Must I repeat myself every time, Potter?"

"Uh, no. Sorry. It's just so…strange."

"Yes, well, magic can be rather elusive at times."

"But you don't know how it got there?"

"I'm afraid not. It is never easy to decipher the way Dark magic works."

"Oh, right."

Hermione opened her eyes slowly at the sound of voices quietly talking, presumably outside her room. She had no trouble recognising the tones of the speakers even in her bleary state. The cold, arrogant voice that delivered speech in an indifferent drawl was very obviously Lucius, while the easy-sounding voice at a slightly higher pitch was definitely Harry.

Blinking several times to clear the lingering effects of sleep, Hermione sat up at the sudden realisation that Harry had come back. For one moment, she wasn't sure if she had simply been dreaming about it being Harry's voice and she sat frozen, waiting for some kind of confirmation from the conversers outside.

"Is she awake?"

"You can see for yourself."

Hermione glanced over at the door of her room which was open a little and waited in eager, nervous anticipation as it opened fully and a familiar face framed by glasses and messy black hair appeared in the doorway.

"Harry…" she called quietly, her voice a little raspy after a night of uneasy sleep.

"Hermione," he replied with a beaming smile, hurriedly walking over to her with his arms outstretched. Hermione felt her throat constrict slightly as her eyes filled with tears of both relief and regret. By the time Harry had put his friendly arms around her in a warm embrace, she was crying into his shoulder, soaking his dark work robes as she buried her face in the soft folds.

"I'm – I'm so s-sorry!" she choked out between loud sobs as her fingers tightly clutched the front of his robes. "I was s-so horrible t-to you!"

"Shh… It's alright, Hermione. Honestly, you had a right to be so cross with me," Harry said reassuringly as he patted her on the back, which only caused Hermione to cry even harder.

"I feel so – so stupid!" she spluttered as she pulled back to train her watery eyes on his face. "I'm – I'm so sorry, Harry…"

"Don't worry about it, Hermione," Harry said with one of his sheepish grins as he tried to shrug off her concern for his feelings. It was his way of showing that he had understood her mood perfectly when she had told him to go away.

"But I still feel so bad…" Hermione groaned in misery while she let go of Harry so that he could dry off his tear-soaked clothes. "I don't know what got into me."

"Hermione," Harry said in a serious voice, his emerald eyes finding hers and holding her gaze. "Really, it's nothing."

"But how can you say that?" Hermione burst out, her tears still wet on her cheeks as she regained enough strength to make an exasperated motion with her hands. "I was so nasty to you and you say it's nothing?"

Harry smiled at her then, his hand reaching out to take one of hers and squeezing it lightly. The small gesture made Hermione calm down immediately and she looked at him with a heavy sigh. She half-wanted him to be mad at her, because she thought she deserved it after all she had said to him a few nights ago. It seemed unfair that he should be so accepting of her behaviour and dismiss it without further ado. Being such a righteous person, Hermione felt that he should be angry at her as it wasn't fair on him otherwise.

"Trust me; I'm not upset about what you said to me because I really was a lousy git, not noticing Dahlia's weirdness and stuff…"

"You shouldn't be so accepting," Hermione said with a shaky laugh, wiping her tears and trying to clean up her face to an acceptable state.

"Yeah well, I can't help it with a bossy ol' boots like you," he said in mock-seriousness before giving a small chuckle that warmed Hermione's heart to hear it. She gave him a grateful smile as she realised that he truly meant it; he had forgiven her without a second thought. I guess that's what being best friends is all about…

"Mr Malfoy said you were feeling ill yesterday," Harry said when the mood had settled again to accommodate serious talk.

"I was a bit," Hermione mumbled guiltily, feeling ashamed of herself for being so melodramatic and insisting on wandering about during a storm when it was perfectly impractical to do so. Sometimes, much to her aversion, her sentimentality took over her senses and yesterday had been one of those unfortunate moments. Lucius had been quite clear in pointing that out.

"Are you feeling a bit better?" Harry asked with concern as he remained standing at her bedside, eyeing her searchingly for any signs of illness.

"Much better," Hermione assured him with a firm nod of her head, actually feeling a lot more energised than the previous evening.

"Good," Harry said in approval before glancing around and spotting the old book about ancient wizarding lines on the bedside table. With a growing grin, he turned to pick it up and held it up to the light that was coming in from the open window.

"Been keeping up with your homework?" he asked with a raised brow while Hermione gave him a mock-sulky look.

"Well, you can't blame me," she replied with a touch of her old schoolgirl defiance. "Life gets so boring cooped up in here that even you, Harry James Potter, would want to be in a library."

The pleasant sound of his laughter made Hermione smile, and she could feel a small ball of happiness glow inside her as she felt her loneliness temporarily alleviated. It still hurt her to think that the third part of their triangle was missing, but there wasn't a lot she could do right now about the situation between her and Ron.

"Oh, come on, Hermione! I don't think I'd ever want to be in a library, even if the world was threatening to come to an end and the only way to live was to read a thousand books!" Harry laughed out while Hermione rolled her eyes and tut-tutted in an uncanny likeness of Professor McGonagall.

"I hope you're cursed into reading a thousand books," she muttered as Harry continued to chuckle. At the mention of the word 'cursed', both of them came to a mutual halt in their cheerful mood as reality sunk in and the greyness of the situation sprung upon them again. Hermione was still sitting under all her bed covers, thinking it a bit inappropriate to leap out when she was only wearing her white nightie. One of these days, she was going to have to get a better nightgown as it was hardly practical wearing such a flimsy thing when her nights often consisted of her jumping out of bed and Lucius Malfoy was around to see. Her thoughts led over to the wizard whom she had come to accept somewhat uneasily, and she wondered whether he had watched over her all night again.

"Hermione, are you listening?"

"Hmm?"

"I said that Kingsley's decided to have someone fill in for you at work temporarily until we've worked out how to get rid of this curse thing," Harry said in a firm voice, obviously being definite on the matter for a good reason.

"Oh…" Hermione said in surprise at the news. Of course, deep down, she had expected her position at the ministry to be filled temporarily, if not permanently, as it was hardly likely she would be back to work in the next few weeks. But hearing it for real made Hermione's heart sink and her previous mood of bleakness came over her again.

"You'll get your job back once you're ready to work, so don't worry about it being given away or anything," Harry said reassuringly while Hermione could only bring herself to nod in response, her eyes dropping to gaze blankly at the dark knots in the wooden floor. She heard Harry sigh quietly and felt a warm hand land on her shoulder, causing her to raise her eyes to look at him again.

"Everything's going to be fine, Hermione, you'll see. Mr Malfoy looks like he's actually doing something helpful and I'll be around to help you as well."

"Will you be staying here?" Hermione asked, unable to keep the hopefulness out of her tone.

"No," Harry said with a sad little smile. "We decided that it's better if I stay at the Burrow until we've lifted the curse. It's for the best."

"But I'm dying of boredom and loneliness here, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed suddenly, unable to quieten her fears as she sat up straighter and clutched the bed sheets anxiously. "What am I supposed to do until the curse is gone? I – I miss you and Ron and Ginny… I miss my parents and the other Weasleys so much…"

"I'll visit often, I promise," Harry told her steadily in an attempt to soothe her fretting nerves. "I'll try and get the others to drop in as much as they can as well and I'm sure your parents will be able to come see you some time. We'll also have a big Christmas party that'll put Slughorn's to shame and there'll be no McLaggen there!"

Hermione couldn't stop herself from laughing a little at the remembrance of the fateful Christmas gathering that Professor Slughorn had held and keeping up traditions by kissing the burly Cormac McLaggen under the mistletoe. She hadn't known which would kill her first; the rough action which was apparently called 'kissing', or his constant talking about his brilliant Quidditch skills. It was a wonder she had survived the night at all…

"Well, if you say no McLaggen…" Hermione said with a little smile as she felt Harry beginning to flounder helplessly in his efforts to lift her morose mood.

"No McLaggen and no mistletoe, if you don't want it. I can't imagine you being too thrilled when you pass Mr Malfoy under the doorway," Harry said playfully while Hermione widened her eyes and gave him a shocked look.

"Harry, please! That was a completely unnecessary comment to make!" she said in embarrassment, acutely aware that she was blushing most shamefully, a sight that was making Harry laugh yet again.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry for putting all the wrong mental images in your head. Just think about the Amazing Bouncing Ferret; that should get rid of any unwanted thoughts," he advised her with a mischievous grin.

"I will," Hermione agreed with a vigorous nod of her head in a show to convince him that the combination of mistletoe with any Malfoy was downright hideous. Not to mention scandalous and completely out of order by Potter and Weasley standards.

"Okay, well, I've got to go back to work as my lunch break is about to end, but I'll be back tomorrow," Harry said with a final smile at her. Hermione felt surprised to hear that it was already past midday, but managed to give him one last smile.

"Thanks for…everything, Harry," she murmured in a serious tone as he turned to leave the room.

"It's nothing Hermione. Seriously, we're best friends. What did you think I'd do? Hate you just for telling me the truth by calling me a git?" Harry said with a friendly grin as he paused by the door.

Hermione shook her head slightly as she smiled, feeling a heavy weight lift from her shoulders and Harry dismissed all her doubts about her behaviour by forgiving her for everything. It certainly wasn't the first time that she marvelled at his loyalty.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said with a wave before he left the room and closed the door behind him, leaving Hermione to sigh and lie back in bed for a moment to close her eyes in a peaceful reminiscing of her times with Harry and Ron before she would have to rise to get dressed.

 

Hermione entered the drawing room, still feeling self-conscious in a set of deep green witch's robes after several long minutes of scrutiny spent before a mirror. She found her hands automatically smoothing away any wrinkles as she tried not to feel awkward in the long-sleeved dress. She didn't even know why she had allowed Ginny to persuade her into buying the robes; she personally thought that green wasn't really her colour, but the youngest Weasley had insisted that Hermione looked good in green.

She wasn't sure why she hadn't gone back to wearing her usual jumper-and-jeans outfit, but somehow, wearing witch's robes made her feel more…involved in the world of magic than when she was just wearing any old clothes. It was a bit silly, but she did feel almost like a different person when she dressed in witch's attire and she had found it to be actually rather comfortable as well as fairly practical. However, Hermione had never been one to wear dresses and robes when the circumstance didn't call for it and wearing robes at home felt awkward and unusual to her. For someone like her who had never had much interest in fashion, it was a big step.

She fretted over whether the slight v-neck of the robes was too revealing and anxiously wondered if the seams would split if she were to engage in heavy wandwork. How witches duelled with such slim-fitting clothes, she didn't know.

Her hands ran out of things to do when she finally realised that her robes were perfectly creaseless and apparently fine. Without knowing what else to do to occupy her nervous mind, she looked up to see Lucius sitting in an armchair drawn up by the lit fireside, a heavy volume open in his lap. She froze when she saw that his cool grey eyes were watching her, eyeing her attire for the day with expressionless disinterest.

Hermione knew she shouldn't care what someone like him thought about what she was wearing, but he was still a person with a set of hawkish eyes as well as a mouth that could pass on the news of her spectacular failure in fashion to anyone who passed. There was no logical reason for her to suddenly be concerned over how she dressed or how others would see her, but somehow, she couldn't suppress the feeling of anxious anticipation at some sign of acknowledgement from her only judge; Lucius.

She couldn't find anything to say as she stood motionless near the open doorway, feeling Lucius' eyes flicker up and down over her once…then twice…then one last time, his gaze lingering for a few sharp seconds before he raised his eyes to meet hers.

"We will have to be careful, Miss Granger," he stated in his smooth, flowing drawl. "It would be a shame to ruin a decent set of robes."

Hermione nodded in response, mouth a little dry from awaiting the verdict with tight apprehension. Her nerves quietened down as she realised that Lucius thought her outfit passable enough, and considering he possessed an immaculate dress sense, it was somewhat comforting, despite her thinking fashion to be foolery. Of course, she had been a little riled to hear him voice his compliments to the robes rather than the wearer, but upon second thought, she knew it would have been more than far-fetched to have Lucius Malfoy bestow words of praise upon her. Besides, she was content with what he had said as it had been truthful enough; she believed that whenever a Malfoy complimented anyone, one could never be sure if there was any sincerity in the words.

"And how is your concentration today?" Lucius asked, breaking into Hermione's short spell of deep thought.

"Fine," Hermione replied quickly and quietly, unwilling to strain her voice as her throat was a little sore from the cold she had caught the day before.

"Good. I was hoping to make an early start."

"Oh, yes," Hermione agreed as she closed the door behind her and stepped towards him. "Sorry," she added, aware that the use of 'early' in his sentence was his polite way of telling her she had kept him waiting for…Merlin knew how long.

"Apology accepted," Lucius said brusquely as he closed the book he had been reading and stood up, placing the hefty tome on a side table before he crossed the short distance between them and came to stand a few feet away from Hermione.

"Today, I have allowed myself to place extremely high hopes on you by believing you will master the art of Occlumency successfully," Lucius began in his business-like tone which he seemed to employ when instructing.

"Right," Hermione answered with a little bite in her voice, irked by his words that slighted her. I'll show his just how good I am…

"Then you will not fail me by crushing those…hopes of mine?" Lucius asked her with a small tang of sarcasm in his voice.

"No, I won't!" Hermione snapped back, unable to prevent her irritation from breaking free for a moment. Lucius always seemed to somehow make her feel annoyed and frustrated; it had to be a Malfoy talent…

"Excellent. Just make sure you keep a tight rein on that temper of yours, Miss Granger. And don't forget to close off your emotions."

"Yes, yes," Hermione replied in a dismissive mutter as she turned away to hide the rolling of her eyes at his condescending manner. From behind her, Lucius smirked a little before swiftly replacing it with a mask of seriousness.

"Let us begin."

 

"I can't do it!" Hermione cried in frustration as Lucius ended the Legilimency spell he had cast on her. "I've tried and I've tried and I've tried, but I just can't do it!"

She could feel the bitter tears of frustration and shame well up in her eyes as she turned away to glare at the nearest wall, unable to understand why she was unable to close off her mind sufficiently. It vexed her to realise that there actually was a field in magic which she couldn't seem to master, even after an hour of trying.

"It's not fair…" she whined quietly to the wall as she hurriedly blinked back the droplets that were threatening to fall. She had never failed to learn something before…

"I hardly need to tell you that life is far from fair," Lucius spoke coolly and Hermione managed to flash a quick glance at him before averting her eyes to the ceiling to prevent the unwanted water beads of embarrassment.

"Yes, but still…" she muttered in what she knew to be an unreasonable, flimsy answer.

"Yes, but still what?" Lucius enquired coldly, watching her with narrowed eyes from where he stood a few metres away.

"Um…" Hermione supplied as her only available reply, slowly turning her slightly watery eyes back to him to see what he was trying to get at.

"You do not know your own mind." It was a statement, and the stony, factual way it was delivered made Hermione freeze as her mind processed what he had said.

"If you did, you would be able to give me a proper answer," Lucius continued, light grey eyes flickering over Hermione's face as his voice slipped back into the aggravating and familiar haughty tone that he used to challenge her. She knew that he spoke in that voice merely to bait her, but he was so good at the game that she often couldn't stop herself from lurching for the lure. She struggled to keep a tight hold of her snapping impulses and when she fixed her eyes on his, she made sure to be careful and on her guard.

"I do not know my own mind?"

"Indeed," Lucius said dryly as he placed his wand in his left hand and flexed the fingers of his right. "You would be able to Occlumency by now otherwise."

"I – I don't understand," Hermione admitted in confusion. "I know what to do; I just don't know how to do it."

"Do you believe you can do it, Miss Granger?" Lucius asked in his arrogant fashion, lifting his eyes from his hand movements to gaze into Hermione's. "Do you think you are capable of mastering such a skill?"

"Well, I suppose… I've never failed to learn something before," Hermione answered a little reluctantly, unable to stop the doubt from sneaking into her words.

"You doubt your own ability." It was yet another direct statement which caused Hermione to be somewhat taken aback by the simple candour of it, but being honest above all virtues, she was unable to deny the truth in Lucius' words. Not knowing what to say, she remained silent, watching him for the next move and unwillingly fascinated by the strangely elegant fluidity of his flexing wrist.

"If you do not believe in yourself, then who will?" Lucius asked casually as he finished relaxing his wand hand and began slowly pacing a wide circle around Hermione, always keeping his eyes on her as he stalked around, making her feel increasingly nervous and uneasy like prey in the hands of a predator.

"Who knows you the best out of you or your friends?" he continued to question her in a silky tone, his smooth voice deceiving her with its pleasantry. "Who else is able to hear what you think, hmm?"

Hermione gulped as she tried to think of the right answer to give, but her job wasn't being made any easier by the fact that he was circling her with a distinctly intimidating streak in his slow, measured gait, making her feel unduly anxious, almost as if she were being examined.

"If your friends were to abandon you, who would you believe in?" he murmured quietly into her ear as he came to stand a few inches behind her, his warm breath skating over her ear, making goosebumps rise along her arms and the hair to rise on the back of her neck.

"My – my friends would not leave me," Hermione stuttered in an attempt to stay in control of the situation – something she was failing dismally at.

"Just consider it, Miss Granger. If, perchance, those who you hold dear to you were to unanimously decide to desert you, who would you rely on then?"

"I – I…"

"Think about it carefully." His voice had dropped to a low murmur barely above a whisper, and Hermione found herself unable to think clearly when she could feel his presence so close.

"I…"

"I heard you were intelligent, Miss Granger; or was that merely a myth?" he asked quietly, body still not touching any part of her, but the power radiating off his person causing Hermione to quiver in apprehension. She clenched her hands several times as she tried to think of an answer to his peculiar questions.

"Shall I tell you, Miss Granger?" he spoke in a mellifluous whisper, his words making him sound almost like a softly hissing snake. "Shall I tell you who you can trust when all fail you?"

"Yes."

"The only person who you can rely on then, is you."

Hermione frowned as she thought over what he had just said. She blinked in surprise when she saw Lucius suddenly standing in front of her, his grey eyes alight with something that she couldn't recognise.

"If you cannot trust yourself, then who can you trust?" Lucius said in a voice that threatened to become mildly aflame as he began artfully pacing a small stretch of floor before Hermione.

"If you cannot believe in yourself, then how can you expect anyone else to believe in you?"

Hermione stared at the pacing wizard in front of her with wide eyes. Somehow, in spite of what her mind was telling her, she had to admit that there was some strange truth in what he was saying. Her first instinct was to dismiss anything that came out of his mouth as twisted and irrelevant, but it was impossible to ignore him completely when she herself found a portion of her agreeing with what he had to say.

"You say you cannot master Occlumency," Lucius continued smoothly without breaking his speech, "Is that what you truly believe?"

"I – I don't know…" Hermione muttered with a lowered head, embarrassed to find herself in such deep confusion.

"Miss Granger, your behaviour is doing very little to impress me. Just think! Analyse your thoughts before you make an answer."

"Well…I've tried my best, but I – I just can't do it," Hermione confessed, the tears she had managed to fight back previously returning again, and making her sight go bleary. She didn't look up when she heard Lucius exhale with great impatience, obviously displeased by her attitude.

"You will never be able to do anything if you allow yourself to think that," he told her sternly, his voice cold and exacting.

"But it's true," Hermione said in a miserable whisper as she raised her blurry eyes to try and focus on his face. "I'm hopeless at closing off my emotions. You've said so, yourself!" she said before she had to break off to try and stop the tears rolling down her red cheeks. Feeling more ashamed and irritated by her loss of control, she turned her face away towards the wall to try and regain a decent composure. She didn't miss the expression of unduly annoyance that flickered across Lucius' face at the sight of her tears, but she tried to ignore him as best she could while waiting for her tears to reside.

"And why," Lucius began with an icy edge to his voice, "would it matter to you if I believed something? You were fighting so well against my beliefs before."

"That was different!" Hermione snapped as she faced him again, not caring about the mess her face had turned into, but wanting to tell him to simply drop the subject. It was embarrassing enough to have to admit she couldn't do something; to be pushed into giving reasons was just aggravating and even more upsetting, never mind insensitive.

"Was it?" Lucius asked coolly, his expression guarded, preventing Hermione from finding out what he was planning to achieve by forcing answers out of her.

"Yes! No… Oh, I don't know!" she cried dismally as she threw her hands up in defeat and took to glaring tearfully at the floor.

"My, my," Lucius drawled in his obnoxiously smug voice. "The unconquerable know-it-all doesn't actually know something? And there I was, expecting to be deeply aggravated yet again by your incessant need to prove your intellect." The mock expressions of regret and dissatisfaction passed over his face as he said it.

"Well, sorry to disappoint," Hermione replied flatly.

"You don't sound it somehow, Miss Granger," Lucius remarked calmly, one eyebrow raised in questioning.

"What do you want me to do?" Hermione cried in frustration. "You already made it more than clear that I am useless –" she choked back a sob, "– at Occlumency!"

"What I want, is for you to believe in yourself," Lucius answered serenely while Hermione stared at him in incomprehension.

"What?"

"I want you to believe in your own capabilities. I want you to believe that you are capable of anything you set your mind on."

"Believe?" Hermione asked dazedly as she struggled to see where this was going.

"Yes," Lucius affirmed without explanation.

"But…I know my limits… There's plenty of proof that I can't do Occlumency," Hermione countered in a thoughtful but sorrowful tone.

"And are you satisfied with that?" Lucius asked in a composed voice, watching her carefully with his sharp eyes.

"Well, of course not!" Hermione exclaimed with a little more vehemence than intended.

"I thought as much," Lucius murmured thoughtfully, almost as if he were talking to himself, which irked Hermione greatly.

"Wishing for something won't just make it happen!" Hermione argued with mounting irritation at her chief aggravator, but also at herself.

"I did not tell you to wish; I told you to believe."

"But what's the difference? Just because I believe something, it won't make me good at Occlumency!" Hermione half-shouted at him, her confusion and distress stopping her from thinking clearly and calmly, like the infuriatingly controlled wizard standing before her.

"Tell me then, when you received the letter from Hogwarts before you knew magic existed, did you believe it when it told you that you were a witch?" Lucius asked in his horribly smooth voice, making Hermione reconsider her choice of mood.

"Well, yes. I suppose so," she muttered reluctantly in agreement.

"So you were willing to believe that an entire world previously unknown to you, existed?" Lucius pressed on, making it impossible for Hermione to ignore him.

"Yes, but what has this to do with my failure at Occlumency?" She demanded, unable to find a good reason as to why Lucius Malfoy was trying to convincer her to do anything that might seem good.

"Everything," he answered calmly. "It has everything to do with it. I am now telling you that there is a way to succeed in closing off your mind which is unknown to you. Do you believe me?"

"If I have to," Hermione replied sullenly, feeling herself to have no other option.

"And what if I were to say that you are an Occlumens? Would you believe me then?"

"Not if you said it, no," Hermione snapped at him, knowing that it was unbelievably rude and uncharacteristic of her to say it, but she wanted him to be insulted at that moment. However, he thwarted her efforts to seize victory and didn't seem offended in the least.

"A plausible decision," Lucius agreed with almost an indecent amount of pleasantry. "However, it is not the right answer."

"Fine; I give up," Hermione admitted in a crushed tone. "Satisfied?"

"Not in the least," Lucius replied immediately. "I do not gain satisfaction from seeing others give in to their own weaknesses."

"Oh, don't you?" Hermione asked, knowing that the rising edge of sarcasm in her wasn't a good thing to release, but upon second thought, he probably deserved it. "I always thought that you lived off seeing people fall to misery and despair. But I guess I was wrong; you're probably the best and most righteous one in the whole world, right?"

"Sarcasm is best left wherever you put your Muggle attire. Hopefully, that would have been in the fireplace," Lucius responded without a hint of being anything but serene. "As for what I live for; you would never understand."

"No, I wouldn't," Hermione agreed in a quiet voice alight with anger. "I don't know how you could even think of persecuting people just because of their heritage." Lucius grimaced as she touched upon the subject they had carefully avoided since the last time it had been mentioned. "I don't understand how you could give that diary to Ginny when she was eleven, simply to get at Mr Weasley! Merlin knows just what you've done and committed in your life! But what you did to Ginny was probably kindness compared to what Death Eaters usually do!"

Hermione immediately regretted her rash words; the look on Lucius' face reminded her all too well that he was more than capable of killing her with one sweep of his hand; and it looked as if he might just do that. There was a muscle jumping angrily in his jaw while his pale hands clenched until the tendons were like thin rods against his skin. She had forgotten had frightening he could be when he didn't hide himself behind a complacent mask. Fear flooded her senses instinctively as she remained frozen to her spot, unable to look away from the terrifying face of a wizard that the world had forgotten to question.

"You are too young to understand anything," Lucius eventually managed to say at last through gritted teeth. Hermione could see it was taking all of his restraint to keep himself in tight control, and she let out a breath she had been holding in as her fear was dampened slightly by her intense relief.

"You would not accuse me of doing such…vile things if you knew what it means to be a Death Eater," he added in a quiet voice, his tone soft and steely with a definite undercurrent of menace flowing through it. Hermione swallowed and tried to think how she should proceed without losing any part of her to a malicious hex. She was acutely aware that they were both treading dangerous ground, speaking of a subject that had been impulsively tabooed. She could see that it was more than a mere struggle for the man in front of her to say anything about his past, and despite all her anger, resentment and fear of him, she could not help the feeling of slight pity that leaked out from her heart.

She watched silently as Lucius slowly brought himself back into full control and loosened his hands so that they relaxed at his side. She waited for him to look at her, and when she had captured his iron gaze, she mustered all her courage to voice her carefully-planned words.

"I accuse you because…I don't understand. How will I ever be able to think of you as anything but despicable if you never explain?"

She kept her voice quiet and without too much emotion; she knew he would hate it if she displayed any loss of composure. Her words were followed by a heavy silence that became increasingly suffocating as Hermione waited for Lucius to make an answer. She watched with zinging apprehension as he looked away towards the fire, his brow creasing in a frown as he considered her reasoning. Hermione wondered whether she would be able to continue; he could be so very unpredictable when it came to reactions.

"You wanted me to believe in myself; but do you believe in yourself?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper as she braced herself against a storm that seemed inevitable. She precipitately recoiled as she expected him to whirl on her and do whatever it took to punish her for her supposed insolence. But she was more than surprised when he made his hushed reply.

"I have always believed in myself. That is why I am here now and not in Azkaban, rotting away both in body and in mind. It was never a matter of belief for me, but it is the others who did not believe in me."

Hermione stared at him in wonder; he had just disclosed something to her that she was sure he had never told anyone. It made her uneasy to think that she had heard his thoughts that were very likely to be felt as highly private. Yet it also heartened her to know that for some unknown reason, he had confided a piece of his intricate thought in her. It was in that moment that she felt a strange connection to him somehow; they were the very opposites in life, but there was also an element about him that seemed somewhat familiar to her.

Lucius was gazing blankly at the wall bearing the tapestry of names behind her and Hermione wondered if he realised what he had just said. It was more than likely that he was fully aware of what he was doing as she had discovered him to be highly perceptive, but there was no knowing when he chose to show nothing.

"Do you…still believe in the…pureblood beliefs?" she asked him cautiously, her nerves trembling as he brought his eyes back to her and stared at her intently.

"How would you have me answer?" he asked in response, his eyes boring into her own as they both searched for answers. "That I do not believe? That I have renounced my ways and am now fully reformed?"

"How would you like to answer?" Hermione said in hushed tones, unwilling to raise her voice and break the uneasy peace that had settled between them for now.

"I do not think I would like to answer at all," he said icily as his fingers clenched angrily.

"But if you don't answer, how do you expect me to understand?" Hermione queried almost desperately, hating to lose sight of the speck of humanity still buried deep inside him.

"I never expected you to understand," he replied apathetically. "Those kinds of expectations are false hopes, and I learnt to expect nothing of anyone a long time ago."

"But –"

"There is nothing else to say on the matter," Lucius interrupted coldly as Hermione gave him an unhappy look. "We are at liberty to believe in whatever we choose. I think it wise for you to stick to yours and I to keep to mine, Miss Granger."

"Please," she pleaded with him, not even sure why she did. "I need to know!"

"No, what you need to do is focus on what you are trying to achieve in this present time," he reminded her sternly, making it clear to her that she was not to ask questions in that line again.

"It's not good to keep things bottled up inside," she said, relentlessly trying to recover the precious moment where he had shown her the chink in his armour.

"While that may be true, it would be even worse to unleash the things inside," he said in the attempt to dismiss the entire conversation. But Hermione wasn't going to let go so easily, and she struck the only point she could think of that would make him pause.

"But I would listen! I would believe in you!"

She began to worry when he didn't speak for several long moments after that declaration and wondered whether she had aimed completely wrong in her hopes to try and lure the goodness out of him. From the way his jaw had tightened again, she could sense foreboding mounting in the air around them. It scared her terribly, but she couldn't let him simply go back to shying away from the truth and always hiding his true face. Hadn't Dumbledore believed that everyone deserved another chance?

Dumbledore had always believed… He had even believed in Tom Riddle when he had been Voldemort for years…

"I have a favour to ask of you," Lucius suddenly spoke abruptly, causing Hermione to jerk to attention.

"Yes?"

"Do not speak of this matter ever again. Is that clear?"

Hermione paused as she wondered what he would do if she refused to obey. The Unbreakable Vow Harry had made him take was supposed to prevent him from hurting her in any way, but she had her doubts about it. She didn't underestimate Lucius' cunning to not find some loop that would allow him to happily dispose of her, should she choose to evoke him into doing so.

"Fine," she agreed reluctantly and he gave a little nod of approval.

"Now, I want you to believe that you are capable of making your mind impenetrable to outer forces."

Hermione sighed as they began their lesson again. She had to admit that her time spent under Lucius' instruction was…interesting to say the least, and definitely insightful. It was curious how they always seemed to end up in some situation where old beliefs and thoughts would crop up and they would battle it out.

"Focus, Miss Granger," he warned her, his wand poised at the ready stance and Hermione brought her own to the right level to defend.

"If I believe in myself, will you tell me more?" she asked him in a final attempt before she would let the matter sink back into the background.

"If you succeed in doing Occlumency, Miss Granger, I'll give you a Galleon."

Hermione couldn't stop the smile appearing on her face as his offer struck a humorous chord inside her. She wondered if this was how he treated Draco; bribing to achieve. Lucius saw her reluctant little smile and the corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly before he straightened his face again.

"Fine, you make the choice of offer today, but I get to choose next time."

"There won't be a next time, Miss Granger," Lucius replied smoothly. "Bargaining with the devil is a most foolish activity and ill-advised."

"Are you the devil?"

This time, she glimpsed the cold smile that turned the corners of his mouth up as dark amusement danced in his unyielding eyes.

"Some like to believe that. Legilimens!"

Hermione found herself cursing him as she was thrown into her memories again.


	12. XII

24\. Strengths and Weaknesses

 

"Congratulations, Miss Granger," Lucius drawled politely as Hermione collapsed into a nearby armchair and let out a deep breath. She frowned up at him when she saw his hand extended towards her, offering her something in his clenched fist.

"What is it?" she asked curiously as she glanced to and fro at his hand and his smooth face. Her question was promptly answered as he turned his hand over and opened up his long fingers to show a single gold Galleon sitting in his palm, the metal gleaming from the firelight that flickered over it.

"I am a man of my word," Lucius affirmed as he tipped his palm up so that the coin rolled with ease into his waiting fingers and he held it between his long digits, his movements reminding Hermione of a Muggle magician. She idly wondered if he would next pull out a white rabbit out of a top hat as well.

"Well? Do you not wish to receive your reward for successfully becoming an Occlumens?" Lucius asked her with one fine eyebrow raised, looking surprised that she didn't immediately grab at the gold he offered.

"I don't want it," Hermione said after a short contemplation, watching with a small smile as Lucius' eyebrows shot up higher in veiled amazement. Before she had any more time to memorise the expression on his face, he had managed to school his features to give nothing away.

"Very well," he said as he pocketed the coin and sat down in another armchair. Hermione watched him as he did so, noting the hint of some emotion beneath the blank mask he always wore and fancied she could detect a slight unsettlement in him. Perhaps she had offended him, refusing his present? Or maybe he was just taken aback by the fact that some people weren't interested in money? She found it ironic that different people such as themselves should be cooped up in the same house to battle through their dissimilarities. Clearly, he was someone who compared everything to its monetary worth and he probably found her lack of desire for wealth quiet startling. She sympathised with him on his incomprehension; she could easily imagine herself being bemused by someone if they refused something she valued highly. In fact, it was no wonder she understood his perplexity; she couldn't understand how he prized money so. It was a bit of a stale mate in that respect.

Hermione turned her attention to his immediate actions and saw that he was reading something in the heavy book he had been perusing earlier on in the day. She could see by the way his eyes flickered constantly, that he was accomplished in the skill of speed-reading and it impressed her in the instant she acknowledged his aptitude, although she was loathe to admit that anything a Malfoy did could ever make a positive impact on her. To keep her thoughts from straying to far and lonely subjects, she decided to engage in a little human interaction with her only available companion. Perhaps she could wring something more out of him…

"What are you reading?"

"A study of the Dark Arts," Lucius replied curtly as he continued to scan swiftly along the lines.

"Do you only read about the Dark Arts?"

He looked up then, his light grey eyes meeting hers to stare at her with some kind of mystified intrigue. Hermione was taken aback by the expression and could only stare back as her mind ran over various different theories to make a decent conclusion on why she was now being the point of his interest. She tried to distract herself by tearing her eyes away to look elsewhere, but was instantly drawn back to looking at him, this time at his pale hands that were lowering the book back into his lap.

"Do you never stop asking questions?"

"What?" she instinctively responded, caught off guard by the abruptness of the unexpected query.

"From what I have witnessed so far, you seem to be endlessly asking and questioning everything and anything," Lucius remarked as his eyes searched her face for some unknown clues that might help him solve the puzzle she was proving to be to him.

"I…"

"It seems as though you are…afraid of something," Lucius murmured observantly to himself as his gaze intensified on her and caused her to blush. "Yes, yes… You are insecure in yourself and therefore wish to reassure yourself of your confidence by asserting yourself over others and appearing intelligent almost to the point of it being outrageous."

Hermione gulped as a sudden feeling of being horribly exposed washed over her and made her feel vulnerable as her weaknesses were brought to light. Her initial reaction upon hearing his words had been disagreement and argument, but she realised it would be hopeless because even though it was absolutely ghastly to think of it, he was uncomfortably close to the truth.

"You are known to quote books in their entirety and know all the answers to the questions posed by your professors. I am certain I am not the only one who has heard of all your many…talents," Lucius continued as he studied her with a careful eye while Hermione tried not to fidget under his sharp scrutiny.

"You are said to love books, but I wonder if that is a mere excuse to hide from something? Perhaps to hide from those whom you fear will pass judgement on your character?" he said thoughtfully as if he were examining an object of newfound fascination, seemingly losing himself in his thoughts as he pressed on with his pensive contemplation.

"What is it in you that makes you so fearful, I wonder? The rest of the world may think of you as a brave, courageous person, but I can see that that is not the whole truth. Would I be right in saying so?"

Hermione stared at him in horrified fixation, unable to believe that he had put his finger on all the delicate points in her character that caused her the most hurt and discomfort. She had chanced a guess that he was exceptionally perceptive, but… No, she had definitely underestimated him in that aspect. It hadn't been difficult to notice the keenness of his bright eyes, but the source of such vividness had been a mystery until now. It was clear that she was dealing with a mastermind of sorts; Lucius' eyes seemed to be able to read everything in her character without him even having to use Legilimency. She felt her mind squirm most uncomfortably as his intense gaze settled on her, picking up every little thing she did.

"You do not like people making such observations as I have done."

It was a statement, calmly delivered as the product of the belief that the speaker was right, and Hermione felt her spirits sink lower as the world closed in around her. Lucius was looking at her with a strange gleam in his eyes, his body in a state of relaxation most would have felt while resting, not passing acute observation. It was clear he was in his element.

"Perhaps you cannot believe that someone would know of your motives?" Lucius carried on in his smooth, measured tones as he leaned back in his chair and continued to observe her. "It must seem like a terribly exposing thing for you, but only you Gryffindors who wear your hearts on your sleeves and intelligence on your shoes would be blind to such blatant signs of character."

His last line suddenly caused Hermione's anger to stir, and before she knew it, she was hauling her defence at the older wizard, her previous bewilderment and fear transforming rapidly into confused rage.

"And since when have you been anyone to speak of other people's character? How dare you talk about me like that! I'm not the one who maimed and tortured people simply for not being of 'pure' blood! You think you're so damn superior just because you're able to see things in people, yet you can't even see yourself!"

"Enough!" Lucius snarled immediately, his previous mood of tranquil musing evaporating in an instant as Hermione struck at the subject that were still too painful for him to bear listening to. Hermione bit back the flaming rant she had been about to give as she beheld his terrifying anger that lit up his pale face so fiercely, and struggled to give light to the truth when her fearful senses were telling her not to. After a moment of gathering her much-needed courage, she opened her mouth to make a brave retaliation, but didn't even manage to utter a single syllable as Lucius snatched the opportunity away from her.

"Of all the accusations you have ever dared to throw at me, your last one has shown me the true depth of your ignorance," he said in a low, angry voice that barely seemed to be able to stay within the confines of the forced quietude of his tone.

"You accuse me of feeling superior and being blind of myself, but your words are that of a fool and ignoramus. I may still be unable to acknowledge and curb my faults fully, but you are much mistaken if you think that gives you any right to assume you are innocent of all faults."

"Don't think you can turn the tables on me!" Hermione hissed venomously at him. "You can't blame your shortcomings on me and expect me to believe that you're right!"

Hermione felt hot from all the anger that was rushing through her system and she knew that her cheeks were probably burning in a reflection of her fiery mood, but she had no care for her appearance when her dignity was at stake. She felt another flare of fury as she saw the hint of a small smile appear on her opponent's face.

"Ah. I must call you out on this, Miss Granger," Lucius said in sudden controlled calmness, his cold smile growing a little wider. "You made it quite clear that you would believe me."

"That's different!" Hermione all but shouted, flushing with annoyance at his ability to slither from one situation to the next with irritating effortlessness.

"How so?" Lucius asked in deliberate politeness, his recovered composure making Hermione feel foolish despite her fervent resolve to defeat him in the battle of wills. "Why should there be any difference as to what you believe in me? After all, my character is very much a part of me, so there should be no differentiation between myself and my traits."

Hermione fumed silently as she collected her wits about her; he was making it all the more difficult for her to find a good excuse that would give her the victory she so very wanted. It was proving impossible to think with sound clarity when her heart was racing with vigorous adrenalin and her emotions were in a blur.

"Are there any answers you wish to provide? Or do you intend on sitting there, sulking like a child?" Lucius baited her in his sweetened voice, his smile cold and cruel in its perfect way.

"I'm not sulking!" Hermione snapped irritably while she caught a glimpse of a brief smirk that flashed across his lips.

"Then what would you call such an activity of looking sullen? Brooding? Musing? Murderous?"

"Not everyone feels murderous every time something goes wrong," Hermione murmured quietly, glaring at Lucius' face that was once again looking rather indifferent as the tabooed subject was raised.

"Indeed," Lucius ground out as he bit back some other reply he had been about to make and drew in the reins to control himself tightly.

"But I suppose that thought never occurred to you?" Hermione taunted in her most edgy voice, still glowering at him.

"What in the world are you talking about?" Lucius snapped, losing his composure for several harsh moments before he managed to recover his self-control in a way Hermione silently envied.

"Death Eaters," Hermione replied flatly, eyeing him with a hard look as she broached the subject that he always strived to avoid at all costs. "I want to hear about Death Eaters."

"I beg your pardon?" Lucius asked with his eyebrows arched in surprise that was apparently unable to be hidden.

"I want to know why you became a Death Eater," Hermione said firmly, letting go of her anger and feeling it settle in the pits of her stomach as mere embers while her cool logic took over. "But maybe you are too scared to talk about it."

"I fear nothing!" Lucius snarled defensively as he leapt up to his feet in graceful rage, his eyes ablaze with cold fury that held a dark gleam of something…murderous.

"Then prove it and tell me about Death Eaters!" Hermione snapped back impatiently, annoyed that he wouldn't admit to being afraid of the truth.

"I have no time to waste on fools!" Lucius hissed as he stood towering over her, his tall frame casting an ominous shadow behind him.

"You have nothing to lose; why won't you tell me?" Hermione pressed on, her inane curiosity getting the better of her and making her eager to know the truth, even when she was in the hands of a potential killer who seemed to have little conscience to speak of.

"Why should I tell you anything?" Lucius asked bitingly, his voice turning bitter. "You are nothing but a child!"

"I am not a child!" Hermione retorted, the glowing embers of her anger lighting again as his slighting words clawed at her nerves. "I've seen enough of the world to know that it's not a perfect place and the people in it aren't perfect either! I've seen enough to know that everyone has their own reasons, but I don't know just what those reasons are! If you, the last sane member of Voldemort's side, can't tell me, then who can?"

Hermione stared at him breathlessly, watching apprehensively for signs of a fateful reaction, but she was silently relieved when he did nothing but work his jaw in an attempt to quash his choler and remain in control of his emotions. Several long seconds ticked by in which they stared at each other, both willing for the other to back down and show some sign of defeat, but neither gave in.

"You are too young to hear what I have to say on the matter," Lucius said eventually, his tone void of his usual politeness and sounding far more real and like...himself.

"That's where you're wrong," Hermione answered in a softened voice, leaning forwards in her chair to get a better look at him. "I need to hear your reason to understand. I want to hear what you have to say."

Lucius glared at her for several moments as he paused to ponder the situation. Hermione took hope in the delay of his reactions and found herself vigorously wishing for him to divulge everything he knew about the mystery surrounding the group known as Death Eaters. Hermione was open-minded enough to believe that they weren't simply the minions of some Dark wizard; she had guessed a long time ago that there was a certain emotional connection between them that drew them together and that they all had believable reasons for joining the pureblood movement, seeing as no sane person would willingly serve a madman without a decent reason.

"Please…" Hermione implored him gently. "Enlighten me from my ignorance."

"Why do you insist on making life difficult for me?" Lucius murmured quietly as he settled back in his chair and covered his eyes with his hand for a moment to collect his thoughts.

"It – it might seem difficult right now, but it'll be better for you," Hermione told him in a hushed voice, aware that she was treading dangerous ground, but unable to stop herself when she was so close to seeing the real man behind the imposing name.

"And how would you know?" Lucius asked coldly as he straightened up to eye her challengingly. "What makes you think you know enough to be so…arrogant?"

"Me?" Hermione squeaked in surprise, taken aback by the thought of herself being conceited.

"Yes, you," Lucius replied impatiently as he glanced at her with disdain. "You are the most insolent, stubborn thing I have ever had the misfortune to encounter in all my years."

"Well, at least I'm not stuck-up, snobby, egotistical, or chauvinistic like you!" Hermione retorted irritably as she tried not to show how surprisingly hurt she was at his insults. Her feelings were not soothed when she saw the grim smile that tweaked his lips up.

"You flatter me," he drawled in a deliberately supercilious manner, "but if that is what you think of me, how do you expect me to believe that you will listen to anything I have to say?"

Hermione bit her lip as she realised he had caught her out yet again; how what she supposed to answer that? He had her tangled in a web she had spun herself and his ability to tie everything up so neatly both infuriated and impressed her greatly.

"You will hear nothing from me on that particular subject until you are capable of providing me with a decent reply. The matter shall not be spoken of till that moment, is that clear?"

"Yes," Hermione mumbled reluctantly, accepting her defeat with bad grace and vowing to get her vengeance on him sooner than later. Being a person who was firmly attached to the notion of honesty, she found it hard to let anyone else lose sight of the light and would try and steer them in the right direction for not only their sake, but for hers as well. Lucius seemed to pick up the intimation of defiance in her grave face for he gave her a patronisingly amused look before gesturing towards the door.

"The elf will have dinner ready by now. You need to eat if you are to restore your strength after using it so copiously while training," he drawled haughtily, causing Hermione to sigh as she lifted herself out of her chair and passed him without a second glance and headed for the door.

Discussions of more passionate nature always had her feeling drained of energy afterwards, and she felt even wearier, having spent a considerable amount of time mastering Occlumency. She was glad by the thought of food and was even happier to have something to distract her from a darker train of thoughts.

 

"I'm going to go to bed," Hermione announced to Lucius who was busily searching for something in a book.

"Good night," he answered distractedly, not even looking up as he continued to run his acute eyes over the tiny print in an attempt to find useful information on curses and the way they worked. Hermione hurriedly pushed away her initial feeling of dissatisfaction as she felt herself being so brusquely dismissed, but she determinedly steered herself out of the drawing room and up the next flight of stairs to the level with her bedroom on it.

She wondered if Lucius was even aware that he had let her disappear without bothering to check that she was still in one piece and hadn't grown an extra limb or something equally absurd that he seemed to always look for when sending her off to bed. She supposed that he was still caught up in his own thoughts like he had been throughout dinner, where he had barely spoken a word as he ate quickly and quietly, not making any effort to sneer at her.

She shrugged off the strange feeling of emptiness that had settled over her, confused as to why she thought something to be missing. It can't be him. It just can't be. Maybe I'm just not sleepy enough…

Brushing away her rambling trail of thoughts, Hermione concentrated on undressing and donning her white nightie once in the safety of her room. She threw on a dressing gown of midnight blue over herself and padded barefoot out into the hallway and along to the door of the bathroom. Her senses had been thoroughly frazzled during the intensity of the day's work and she had had a sudden craving for a bath.

The physical movements of drawing a bath was a pleasant distraction from her tangle of incomprehensible thoughts and Hermione felt a little more pacified as hot water poured into the gleaming white tub and steam rose gently from the bottom. She hummed quietly as she closed and locked the bathroom door and took off her dressing gown as she waited for the bathtub to fill. Her hands automatically fiddled with the taps to make the temperature of the water bearable while her mind drifted off into a calm state of blankness.

The bathroom was the same one she had helped Lucius seal up his open wound and Hermione could recall the ungainly sight of rich red blood pouring down the perfect, porcelain sink. Shivering slightly from the remembrance of so much blood, Hermione pondered over Lucius and everything that had passed between them earlier that day.

She had finally learnt Occlumency, much to both their relief, and she still felt grateful to her new teacher for helping her persist, although she hadn't been able to humble herself enough to voice anything more than a few brief words of thanks.

She thought him to be so very intriguing, but also infuriating as he seemed particularly talented in the skill of manipulating and aggravating people when he wished to. His unwillingness to face the truth irritated her greatly and there were so many things about him she couldn't understand. However, the challenge and mystery Lucius presented made Hermione crave an answer and explanation to him as a whole, and resolve to unravel the ambiguity surrounding him.

Her thoughts picked up a pace and turned over to contemplate the mess with Ron and the idiocy of Percy. Hermione still felt anguish when she thought of her dear friend and how she had been the cause of immense pain, both physical and emotional. She felt she could never forgive herself for what she had done, and doubted that Ron would ever let it go either. As she sadly pictured the freckled-face framed with vibrant red hair, she turned off the taps and absent-mindedly watched the steam continue to rise.

Ron… 

She had lost him, and it hurt her more than anything to know that she had been the one who had driven him away, even if she had never meant to. She closed her eyes for a moment and imagined how he would look and what he was doing at that moment.

Would he be at the Burrow? Maybe chatting with Harry and Ginny… I wonder if he – if he still hates me…

Her mind fast-forwarded over the various events that had made considerable marks on her time spent at the melancholic Number Twelve and she opened her eyes and scowled at the pale grey walls in front of her as she thought of Percy. He had been nice enough to her when they were both at school, but even she, who tried not to be judgemental, found it impossible not to agree with the rest of the Weasley siblings on the fact that Percy was a pompous prat. He had remained as the undersecretary even after Kingsley came into ministerial role and everyone had thought him to be doing quite well. Hermione had actually begun to like him again because he seemed suitably humbled and mellowed, but his action of sending Dahlia in to investigate had immediately erased him on Hermione's list of agreeable people. In fact, the situation had led to even Lucius being more favourable than Percy.

Anger bubbled in Hermione as she thought of Dahlia and Percy; the latter she could deal with as she knew him fairly well and guessed that he had simply been concerned to know what was going on since Hermione had wounded Ron rather badly. Dahlia, on the other hand…

Ugh! I hate her so much! Her and her pretty face!

It was only natural that she envied Dahlia as she had been so unerringly beautiful at first sight, and for someone whose face was plain and unadorned, Hermione struggled to remain uncaring over physical beauty. She had been so…annoyed when Dahlia had come to the house and chatted to Lucius as if it was they who had spent days stuck together, and not Lucius and Hermione. She didn't even know why it bothered her, but Hermione hadn't been able to help being a bit upset and disgruntled over seeing a stranger get on with Lucius so easily when it had taken Hermione weeks to get Lucius talking amicably.

Although thinking about it, Lucius hadn't been given much say in the matter and had put up with Dahlia's disgusting flirtations with admirable grace and civility. The thought that Lucius was an innocent party in that circumstance did little to soothe Hermione's sudden swing of emotions however, and she had trouble controlling the anger and unexplainable misery flaming within her.

She blinked quickly, then blinked rapidly a few more times and focused on a corner of the high-ceilinged room where she thought she had seen something flutter. A wave of nausea and anxiety washed over her as she considered the worst possibility but she steeled herself, trying to convince herself that it was only a moth. It was then that she troubled to glance around the room and realised that the light wasn't very strong and there were plenty of shadows swaying against the wall from the few candles that hung from a miniature silver chandelier fixed to the ceiling.

Hermione shuddered involuntarily as a cold wind skated over her thinly-dressed body and swirled around her bare ankles, causing the hair on the back of her neck to rise and goosebumps to appear on her skin. She instinctively recoiled to try and retain warmth and remembered that the point of her presence in the bathroom was to have a bath.

She made to undo the few buttons along the top of her plain nightgown, but her fingers fumbled clumsily against the cotton fabric and it took her several long moments to achieve her aim. Shivering slightly from both the cold and the sudden eeriness lingering heavily in the atmosphere, Hermione stepped to the edge of the bath and reached up with her hands to pull her white shift off when she froze in absolute terror.

There, beside her face that was blurrily mirrored on the surface of the water, was a much sharper visage that leered at her with red lips and glistening white teeth. The eyes belonging to the face that seemed to be leaning over her shoulder, were yellow with madness and lustrous dark tresses framed the emaciated face that had once been beautiful.

Hermione whirled around with her heart thumping wildly, expecting to see the horror of her nightmares standing directly behind her as it should have been. However, she saw nothing else in the room and felt her fear subside a fraction.

With a hand pressed firmly over her hammering heart, she slowly breathed out and tried not to let her paranoia and fear choke her like it so often did and she practised what she had been doing all day; Occlumency. However, she could not gather the staunchness to control her emotions tightly and her mind was going wild with apprehension and panic, making her body tremble in turn. Before she knew what was happening, an icy breeze whispered over her and her head began to throb with painful dizziness.

Clutching her head numbly, she collapsed onto her knees and leant forwards against the cold side of the white tub, eyes unable to focus properly as something in her acted as a trigger and let off all her worst memories. There were flashes of yellow eyes and crazed grins to the sound of mad cackles and screams. It all made her head ache so badly…

Her eyes managed to focus when the tormenting scenes cut off suddenly in her mind and for a moment, all she could do was stare straight ahead at the water in the bath that was rippling unevenly.

Bellatrix… Bellatrix… Bellatrix…

Die, you disgusting beast!

Hermione tried to scream when she heard her tormentor's voice shriek a reply back to her dazed chanting of the hated name. It sounded so real…

Suddenly, there was water in her ears, mouth and nose as some incredible weight forced her head beneath the startled water, cutting off her oxygen, breaking off the spell of terror that had paralysed her before and making her struggle violently. She had dreamed about dying by asphyxiation, but she had never thought that it would come true…

Filthy Muggle trash! You don't deserve to live!

Hermione thrashed about as she tried to escape the invisible grip that was pushing her head down and felt her panic increase as she started running out of air. She could hear the echoing rattle of Bellatrix's mad voice in her ears and her sight had gone black even though her eyes were open beneath the frenzied water. She fought to free herself from both the overpowering flashes of terrible memories and the merciless weight which bore down upon her head with a distinctly cruel intention, but realised that nothing was going to save her.

Nothing except herself…

Close off the mind. Close off the mind.

She wasn't aware of anything besides the battle that she was trying to win. She knew that if she could just conquer her crippling fear, she would be safe. But it was getting ever more impossible to win when her mind was lost in terror and faintness while her body was beginning to seize up from the lack of much-needed oxygen.

This can't be the end… I have to fight. This just can't be the way everything ends…

She kicked out a few more times against the cold floor of the bathroom, but her senses had dulled and her mind couldn't find the strength to think straight. She felt darkness surround her on all sides and begin its diligent consumption of her. She didn't feel the water lapping at her neck and couldn't even feel it flowing around her submerged face.

I can't breathe… No air... I'm dying…

She would have panicked even more if she had had the energy, as her life began to flash past her eyes, making her want to grab at it and haul herself into the world of light that she was steadily falling away from. It was like a slow, pungent dream that refused to leave, and the haziness meshed around Hermione in a tight net as she continued her downward plunge into the unknown blackness…

Harry… Ron…

Ron! The thought of never sharing another word with him ever again stirred her feeble spirit into one last attempt to grasp the world that was floating away from her. She couldn't bear the thought of leaving without having a reconciliation with him and the thought only served to renew her efforts and give her a little spark of life to fight the cold fingers of death that was brushing against her.

She concentrated on mastering her terror and ignoring the sounds of her nightmares that still rung horribly in her ears. Turning her attention to the unrelenting pressure that was crushing her under its dead weight, she gathered the last remnants of her willpower as sh closed off her mind.

The weight was lightening ever so slightly, but it was not enough to release her from its malicious grip. She was going to die, and there was nothing else to be done about it. The most she could do was to accept it and let everything go...

Ron… 

Something warm and liberating landed on her upper back and made her body jolt as if an electric shock had passed through it. Hermione vaguely noticed crackles of life shooting through her body as the new and welcoming power continued to rest against her cold, limp form and give her the reassurance she needed while simultaneously lifting away the dreadful weight that had been forcing her to her death. She could feel herself being released from the terrible clutches of darkness and a small dose of energy trickled into her pulsing lifelines.

Suddenly, she jerked her head back and took a huge, gasping breath as her head broke the surface of the water and air flooded into her wanton lungs at a dizzying pace. She gripped the cold edge of the porcelain tub and blinked slowly several times, water dripping down from her flattened hair and momentarily blinding her.

"Miss Granger."

Her head twisted to the right at the sound of the familiar voice, and only then, was she aware of the source of the warmth spreading across her wet shoulders.

Lucius was standing behind her, one hand pressed to her shoulder blade while the other clutched his wand. Hermione blinked the thick droplets of water out of her eyes as she looked up at his pale face which was deeply shadowed in the dim lighting. Her entire head was dripping copious amounts of water that was starting to soak up the top of her thin gown, making it stick to her clammy skin while turning translucent.

Hermione saw Lucius glance at her attire and felt a small glow of gratefulness to him when he hurriedly looked away and grabbed her dressing gown from nearby and thrust it at her. She was sitting slumped on the floor in a growing pool of water, feeling like a drowned rat. She tried to lift her arms to take the proffered clothing, but her limbs were frozen and lifeless at her side.

Lucius seemed to understand the problem and grimaced slightly as he crouched down before her and reached out to her with the dressing gown open between his stretched arms. Hermione closed her eyes briefly in relief as the thick robe was quickly draped over her and when she opened her eyes again, Lucius had stepped back, his eyes swiftly skating over the scene.

The silence between them was very apparent, but it was nothing uncomfortable anymore. Hermione didn't feel like talking about anything, and Lucius, thankfully, wasn't one to question when he could work things out for himself. He glanced at everything in the disrupted room and stepped past Hermione to dip a hand in the bath water which was now at a lower level than it had been initially.

"Do you always take cold baths?" he asked quietly as he turned away from the bath with a frown to gaze at Hermione intently.

"No," she answered in a whisper, unable to talk any louder as her throat felt strained and bruised.

"Interesting…"

He paused for a moment to run his eyes in scrutiny over her before he gave a small nod to signify that he would not push for information when she was obviously not in the right condition to talk properly. Hermione gave him a weak smile of thanks in appreciation of his silence and curled up against the cold tub, drawing the dressing gown tighter around herself to regain the heat lost from her body.

She heard Lucius exhale deeply from above her and tensed in surprise when he reached down to curl his hand gently but firmly around her covered arm. She looked up at him to see what he wanted and gathered that he was expecting her to walk back to her room as continuing her bath was now completely out of the question.

She shivered from the cold in the air and tried to unlock her frozen legs to stand up, but sighed in defeat and misery when she found her body frail and unresponsive. She made no protest when Lucius gave her an impatient look and bent over her to pull her roughly against his chest as his arms scooped her up to carry her. She simply closed her eyes in exhaustion and allowed her head to rest against his collar as she felt him walking out of the room and into her own chamber.

She felt herself lowered onto her bed and managed to open her stiff-lidded eyes to gaze around the darkened room, illuminated only by a single little candle. Her body remained unresponsive as Lucius pulled the bed covers over her and cast a warming charm on her with a quick wave of his wand. Hermione sighed softly as she felt the lovely tingling sensation travel over her body and leave a comforting trail of heat behind.

"Sleep and we will talk in the morning," Lucius murmured quietly as he drew up his usual chair to her bedside without even being asked. Hermione tried to answer, but found her voice absent and had to make do with a small tilting of her head which Lucius seemed to realise was a nod. He gave her a tight little smile to reassure her and Hermione took it as her cue to do as she was told.

Her mind was empty and her senses numb, so sleep would be no trouble. However, her body still felt cold and bereft of all life, and she felt an instinctive yearning for some assurance one way or another.

A brief touch of a warm hand brushing away her wet hair from her icy cheek was enough to soothe her and she settled in a long, dreamless state of relaxed slumber.

 

25\. Equality by Name

The smell of something strong and slightly pungent drew Hermione out of her dreamless sleep and she coughed on the bitter tang hanging thick in the air. She felt her head being lifted up slightly and only managed to open her weary eyes when a goblet was pressed to her lips. Before she could protest, the rim of the cup had pushed past her lips and a hot, horribly astringent liquid stung the sensitive taste buds of her tongue.

Spluttering violently as her throat instinctively opened up to swallow the disgusting drink, Hermione opened her eyes fully and stared around her room in confusion. Her bleary orbs focused after a few seconds and took in the sight of a drawn-faced Lucius leaning slightly over her with a cup that had acidic-looking purple smoke rising lazily from its depths.

"What are you feeding me?" Hermione croaked in her failed attempt to shriek while Lucius tensed at the sudden sound of her pitifully thin voice.

"I am not feeding you anything," he replied in a flat, tired voice that was most unfamiliar to Hermione's ears. "It may have escaped your notice, but this goblet contained drink, not food."

"You know what I mean!" Hermione snapped irritably as she gently rubbed her throat to ease the burn that seemed to be eating away at her oesophagus.

"Well, it is a long story," Lucius sighed somewhat flagrantly, trying to hint that he was in no mood to waste his energy on speaking.

"Fine. Just tell me what I drunk please," Hermione replied in a raspy whisper.

"A potion to revive your body warmth. You were looking a little blue."

"Blue?"

"No, red," Lucius snapped impatiently.

"You just said blue," Hermione pointed out indignantly while watching the older wizard firmly set aside the empty goblet on the bedside table and elegantly slump back in his chair before closing his eyes and massaging his temples lightly. Hermione found herself waking fully as she continued to watch his long fingers relieve the pressure building up on him after a night of no sleep and wondered whether she had pushed him too far so early in the morning.

"Mr Malfoy?" she tried tentatively after realising with great reluctance that it was hardly grateful to harangue the one who had taken the measures to ensure her good health.

"Hmm?" Lucius hummed out disinterestedly, opening his eyes unhurriedly and letting his arms slowly drop down to rest on the armrests of his chair.

"Are you tired?"

"Try your hand at a little observation, Miss Granger," he answered in a voice that was tired and toneless, the absence of his biting edge greatly noticeable to Hermione.

"Right. You are very tired."

"Fifty points to Gryffindor," he murmured in a sleepy drawl as he closed his eyes once more.

"Is it a bad time to ask for explanations?"

"I would call it inconvenient," he responded in shortened tones while Hermione realised she wasn't going to get much out of him in his current state. Feeling particularly generous and grateful after a night of hazy remembrance, she decided she would allow him the license to be human and keep any weaknesses he showed whilst sleeping, a secret. After all, he had always overlooked any embarrassments of hers, which had always surprised her but left her somewhat comforted and thankful.

"I understand. Please get some rest," she said in a quiet voice, feeling the sting gradually disappearing from her throat. Lucius gave a little nod as he sacrificed the comfort of his own bed for the convenience of already sitting in a chair and leaned back to replenish his energy in a most uncharacteristically relaxed manner.

After checking that his eyes were closed, Hermione silently slipped out of bed on the side furthest away from him and hurriedly reached for her dressing gown that was draped neatly over the chair tucked beneath her desk. After a moment of thought, Hermione decided to dress later and made to leave the room so that Lucius wouldn't have to worry about being watched while sleeping. However, just as she passed the usually uptight man sitting slumped in the chair, she paused to look at him properly and was surprised by the pale glint of stubble forming along the edge of his usually smooth chin.

Upon creeping closer to him, she could see the slight shadows under his eyes and the natural lines of his face were bared to the world as the morning sunlight lit up every minute detail of his visage.

Hermione knew it to be rude, but she couldn't resist taking a good study of his features, as she knew it would probably be the only time she ever got to look at him properly without fearing any retaliation from him. Silently, she stepped nearer so that she was almost touching him, and bent over him slightly to take in every angle and curve of his sharp face.

As she stared at the long, aristocratic nose that leant towards being aquiline and his well-shaped mouth with a thinner upper lip, Hermione came to the decision that he wasn't exactly handsome in the usual way, but there was something striking about his pale countenance that gave the impression of charisma and character which held a hint of a mystery that was simply calling to be solved. Despite the nose that was almost too sharp and the natural effects of aging, he was still pleasing enough to the eye, and Hermione sighed quietly in envy as she gazed at his smooth, even face that looked like carved marble in the direct rays of the winter sun.

Looking at his pale complexion, Hermione absent-mindedly wondered if his skin would feel as cold as it looked. Forgetting herself in the moment, she reached out with trembling fingertips to lightly skim the surface of his roughened chin and was almost surprised to feel warmth beneath his skin. With her heart beating louder and faster, she gently traced his strong jaw and cheekbones with a finger, fascinated by the face that hated her and had caused her to hate. She couldn't believe how even now when the war was over and Voldemort was gone, Lucius' face still reminded her of everything that had hurt her and made her weep tears of frustration during the years when the wizarding world had been terrorised.

Even after she had pulled her hand back to her side and simply stood observing his face, Hermione couldn't quite stomach the fact that she was staring at the face of someone who had committed heinous acts that she didn't even want to think about. Half of her desperately wanted to hate him for living on when he should have died, rather than Remus, Tonks, Dumbledore, Fred, or even Professor Snape. His continued existence puzzled her beyond comprehension; why did the good ones die when someone like him managed to survive? It made little sense when one was used to the theory of good triumphing over evil.

She wanted to hate him so badly, but when she looked down at the calm face, all she saw was the face of a man, not a murderer. She could see no blood on his hands, or any sign of loathing on his peaceful face. When she tried to connect the name with the face, she failed to see the villain, but saw only an elegant gentleman lounging gracefully in a chair with his long legs stretched out. Hermione sighed as her head began to ache slightly and she was forced to stop her endless train of thoughts for fear of dizziness, blinking at the reality flowing around her to bring her back to the present.

The long strands of Lucius' sleek white-blond hair had fallen out of the smart black ribbon that had held them during the night and Hermione admired the effect of the sunlight glimmering on the silky mane so unlike her own. She frowned as she reached up to touch her own hair and found it as bushy and frizzy as ever. Scowling with annoyance at the unfairness of life, she quietly made her way past Lucius and left the room to get some breakfast.

 

"Good afternoon, Mr Malfoy," Hermione said meekly as she looked up from a small stack of open books sitting before her to greet Lucius who had appeared in the doorway of the drawing room. He gave a curt nod in her direction to return the greeting and strode over to his favourite armchair, picking up a thick tome on the way and wasting no time in opening it to the right page.

Hermione noticed that he was looking a little better and his pale face had the slightest trace of colour beneath the marble planes of his cheeks and his light grey eyes seemed to hold a hint of blue in their brightness. She watched as he silently went about his reading business, his brow slightly creased in unwavering concentration. Although he hadn't taken the time to don all the heavy layers of his usual robes and wore a simple pair of black slacks teamed with a crisp white shirt, Lucius still managed to create his usual aura of formidability.

A quiet exclamation from him made Hermione twitch in surprise and without second thought, she left her chair to see what had caught his attention. As she came to peer over his shoulder, she drew her dressing gown tighter around herself, feeling a little out of place beside him. A nervous feeling tingled in her stomach and her heart beat faster at the exciting thought of discovering a new clue or lead.

She tried to appear calm and collected despite her anxious anticipation, but her stance faltered when Lucius turned his head to look at her, his silvery eyes looking unusually clear and excited, and the unexpected expression caught Hermione completely off-guard. She had never seen that particular expression on his face before and she found it strangely endearing to see his hardened features alight with almost boyish satisfaction. It was clear that Lucius had forgotten himself in his moment of discovery and Hermione's mind was immediately lost on wondering about the complex man he formed. Even when she saw his mouth move and his voice sounded in her ears, all she could do was stare at him mutely and nod when he waited for her to make some input into the conversation.

"Are you feeling well?" she heard him say, his words out of synch with his lips as a dizzy spell suddenly struck her. Clutching the back of his chair, she took a few deep breaths to clear the haziness in her mind and the dull ache that caused her to remember the events of the evening before.

"What happened yesterday?" she gasped out as her head was gripped by a painful throb.

"You had another…lapse of emotional detachment," Lucius replied calmly, shifting in his seat so that he could look her over with a careful, scrutinising eye.

"I feel dizzy," Hermione said abruptly as she felt her vision spin out of control and her sense of balance dissolve into a blur.

"You need to go to bed," Lucius ordered her, standing up to pull her hands away from the armchair she was gripping viciously and trying to guide her with light touches that could hardly be felt. Hermione struggled to see everything as gravity intended to hold them and she was overcome with confusion as to why she was feeling giddy so suddenly. She didn't protest as Lucius used the lightest hold with his fingers to take her elbow and steer her out of the room and up the stairs to her own chamber.

By the time she was standing beside her bed, she wasn't sure if she had just taken a few seconds or several hours in getting up the stairs. Everything seemed abstract and the lack of sense in her usually logical mind confused her greatly. Nothing seemed to make sense; Hermione hadn't been tired in the least when she had got up earlier that morning, but now, she was feeling fatigued and faint, much to her bemusement.

"I advise actually getting into bed, rather than staring at it," Lucius' drawl came over her shoulder and she tried to roll her eyes as she slowly pulled back the covers to settle in, but found it to be too much of an effort. Feeling distinctly miserable and drained, she drew the thick covers up to her chin and lay back with a sigh, looking around her sunlit room with heavy eyes.

"You need to sleep," Lucius told her in his typical condescending manner as he watched her with narrowed eyes.

"I'm not tired," Hermione replied in a drowsy-sounding voice, the words taking a colossal amount of effort to drag out of her mouth.

"Of course not," Lucius agreed in smooth sarcasm. "Why would anyone be tired when their mind has been thoroughly searched and put in complete disarray by a madwoman?"

"What?" Hermione squeaked, sitting up in bed and causing a jolt of pain to shoot up her stiff back.

"I suppose I should explain, but you have this…intriguing tendency to interrupt me whenever I try and clarify anything to you," Lucius said in his even voice with barely a detectable trace of snideness.

"No, you can explain and I won't interrupt," Hermione said with a heavy sigh, not in any mood to argue or be annoyed at him.

"In that case, I shall be brief as you need some rest," Lucius announced, adopting the detached, professional tone he used whenever he knew he had to elucidate to Hermione.

"Thanks."

"I have been thinking about this for a while, but it seems that Bellatrix has somehow managed to leave some kind of…fragment of herself behind," he began, his voice becoming ponderous as he slowly paced the small stretch of floor beside Hermione's bed. Hermione widened her eyes in astonishment and growing alarm as she watched him wear his thoughtful frown and felt his words sink in.

"We cannot be sure if it is anything but an illusion, but there is certainly a high degree of danger as she seems to be able to inflict physical damage to the living, i.e. you."

Hermione stared at him dumbly, unable to get her head completely around the idea of Bellatrix and any possible connections to Horcruxes. She knew that the oldest Black sister had been terribly talented at magic, but she had never struck her as a particularly intelligent, careful person who would know about such a secret way to remain immortal.

"I suppose you do not know what truly happened last night, when you went to bathe?"

"No," Hermione said before swallowing with a gulp, anxiety and confusion rising within her yet again. "I only remember feeling something like a horrible weight pressing down on me, forcing me under the water…"

"I see," Lucius said with a small nod as he thought out the situation further. "The only direct clue we have is the fact that your struggle with such powerful magic caused the hot water you had drawn to turn cold. It is evident neither of us are entirely certain as to what this 'weight' might have been, but I think there is a precaution we can take to ensure it does not return to drown you in your own bath."

"And what would that precaution be?" Hermione asked in a hushed voice, shuddering at the thought of drowning in that white porcelain tub, with nothing but mad yellow eyes dancing in her vision.

"Leave the door open next time."

Hermione blinked several times before shaking her head to try and clear anything that might have caused her to hear wrongly. She stared at Lucius who had stopped his pacing to look her in the eye, his mouth set firmly and his jaw tight in an obvious sign of discomfort.

"Ex-excuse me?" Hermione stuttered, unable to believe what he had just suggested.

"It is the only way to guarantee your safety," Lucius reassured her stiffly.

"My safety?"

"Yes," he affirmed with a curt nod. "What if you were to be unable to fight off the curse in time to remain alive? We were most fortunate yesterday; I happened to be passing by the bathroom when I heard you struggling."

"What were you doing outside the bathroom?" Hermione asked in the effort to distract herself from the horror of having a bath while the door was open with a male in the house.

"My intention was to visit the younger Black's room to search for anything that might prove to be useful, but it was most providential that I was passing when I did as I am not sure you would have lasted much longer against the curse."

Hermione turned to gaze blankly out the window, barely taking into account that the sun was slipping away behind grey clouds that dampened the day. She couldn't quite get her head around Lucius' idea as it struck her as simply too absurd for someone like him to suggest. She rolled her gaze back to gauge his mood and she found herself staring at his stony face and came to the quick decision that he was just as reluctant to put such a plan into action.

"Is it…completely necessary?" she asked quietly, fingers fidgeting nervously with the eave of her bed covers.

"Would I be suggesting it otherwise?" Lucius responded tersely, his jaw tight and entire form tense as he attempted to disguise his uneasiness.

"Fine," Hermione sighed, unable to think of any other solution to the problem. "But – but I will be…safe?"

"I give you my word," Lucius answered promptly, staring her straight in the eye in an apparent effort to be sincere, although Hermione felt it to be somewhat strange for him to appear so earnest.

"Well, can you at least stay downstairs or something when I – when I go for a bath?" Hermione requested awkwardly, blushing from the discomfiture of the situation. She saw one of Lucius' fine blond brows twitch upwards ever so slightly and caught the traces of a disdainful sneer that was swiftly replaced with a cold, indifferent façade.

"Of course," he replied in a detached tone, meeting her gaze with mockery in his eyes. Hermione felt her cheeks burn even more as she understood the reason of his scorn; there was little reason as to why a man like Lucius would ever want to even see Hermione in any state of dress. It was obvious from the icy glaze of his eyes that the thought of anything indecent between them repulsed him greatly. Hermione supposed she was relieved at the signs, but she couldn't help feeling a silent, little echo of hurt at being so callously dismissed. Certainly, she had no wish to be spied on by anyone, but in her mind, Lucius could have disregarded the idea with a little more politeness and benevolence. However, she was immediately reminded by the sight of him, that he was a Malfoy after all, and since when had a Malfoy been polite to a Muggleborn?

Since never…

Hermione frowned as she looked up into his cool grey eyes, searching for some sign of emotion in the dark depths of his orbs, but she could detect nothing that made any sense. Perhaps she had been wrong all along; Lucius Malfoy would always be Lucius Malfoy, hater of Muggleborns, pureblood supremacist, egotistical chauvinist.

It confused her greatly to think about the matter; she had begun to believe that he had actually changed for the better as she had thought there had been blatant slips of humanity in him in past moments, but perhaps she had just misread everything…

He didn't seem so changed now… But then again, he always seemed to hide behind a mask as soon as the sun rose, making Hermione wonder whether he was afraid of being himself. It was a curious thought; Lucius Malfoy apparently feared nothing. Nothing but the truth.

The light clearing of his throat brought Hermione whirling back into reality and she stared up at him, startled to see him standing before her in such a surreal state.

"Is there anything else you wish to discuss, Miss Granger?" he asked in his polite, apathetic drawl.

Miss Granger… He called me 'Miss' Granger… Surely that must mean he respects me to a certain extent. Or maybe he's just very well-mannered… I wonder what he'd say if I…

"Miss Granger?"

"Would you be offended if I called you 'Lucius'?"

Lucius immediately froze as her question struck him unaware, and Hermione herself found her sudden and whimsical enquiry rather unexpected and rude. However, her pride wouldn't allow her to retract the question and instead, she just bit her bottom lip in anxiousness as she awaited his response, knowing that somehow, the answer would decide the volatile balance of status between them.

She watched as he stayed still as a statue for a few moments, his eyes hardening as he gazed into a far corner, a frown forming on his brow. Hermione waited and regarded him nervously as his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed, the atmosphere growing far more intense than it had ever been between them.

One second; two seconds; three seconds…

The clock on the mantelpiece seemed to tick far louder than Hermione could ever recall and its tolling strokes did little to lessen her nervousness. Lucius looked equally uncomfortable as he tried to come to an agreeable decision on his part. By the time he turned to fix his steely eyes upon her, Hermione was desperately wishing she had never asked such a regrettable question.

She could see the conflict raging inside him. He was probably thinking about their differences, which were as plain to him as night and day. To him, she probably had no right as a Muggleborn to ask such an impudent question of a pureblood which would upset the balance of things. But then again, it was no longer the age of blood superiority and Hermione would never back down to the mere prejudice of fools. She supposed that it had actually been Voldemort who had shown Lucius the major fault with the pureblood cause. Recently, she had begun to half-understand that to the purebloods, Voldemort's campaign had been seen as something noble, although in reality, it had been a horrendous and hideous thing that had besmirched his followers more than anything. The Dark Lord had turned the Cause into a corrupted excuse, and Hermione was sure that Lucius would be bitter and angry at his old master for misleading and duping him for the past twenty years.

She could see the resentment and contempt of many years built up on his face in the form of a hardened expression, and she didn't know how he would react when he was in such a mood. Something about his cold eyes told her that he wasn't the man he could have been if he had had the understanding and support that all humans needed. It pained Hermione to be the witness of a man in silent anguish and she could almost feel the torment flowing out of him. Her compassionate heart could not bear watching him go to waste, even though they shared a past of mutual hate. She knew that this question of hers, this testing the boundaries was sure to clear up the uncertainty between them. What were they, now that they were working on the same side? Enemies? Acquaintances? Friends? Equals?

The last suggestion was the one all her hopes were pinned upon. In her mind, Hermione imagined that if he recognised their equal status, he would not only be melting the wall of ice between them, but he would also be acknowledging and correcting the mistakes he had made in the past. It was with eager and nervous anticipation that she awaited his answer, and when he finally met her gaze and opened his mouth to speak, her palms were lined with sweat.

"A name is a sacred thing and the less it is spoken, the greater its worth," Lucius began in a cold, detached voice, his grey eyes staring at her with iron intensity. Hermione felt her heart sink when she heard his words and at the greatest point of her disappointment, she wanted to laugh bitterly at her own folly. She had actually believed that he had changed enough to see the truth, but it seemed she was wrong. What a little optimistic fool she was…

"However, times have changed, and there is little point in wasting energy on words," Lucius suddenly continued in a voice laced with great reluctance. Hermione looked up in surprise at his response and had to repeat his words in her head to take them in. For a moment, she couldn't believe he had just said that he had little care for what she called him. It was clear that it was not his preference to be regarded on first-name terms, but his unwilling acceptance showed the sliver of change in him that Hermione had thought to be nonexistent.

With a growing smile of hushed delight, she caught his eye and gazed at him more openly than she had ever before. It seemed like a small thing on the bigger scale of life, but to Hermione, Lucius' acceptance meant everything in that moment. With his words, he had effectively admitted that she was equal enough to address him how she wished, even if it didn't please him much.

She had nothing to say that could express the satisfaction blooming in her heart and from the look on Lucius' face, she could see that he had no wish to say anything more on the matter. Despite the slight tension lingering in the air, Hermione managed to smile at him; a new kind of smile that she had never given him before. Some kind of barrier between them had melted and both sides felt the great burden of their mutual animosity from the past growing lighter and evaporating.

The heavy tension in the atmosphere slowly lifted, and the room felt as airy as any room could be in such an old, damp-riddled house. Lucius gave Hermione one final glance, his face bearing an unreadable expression as he turned away and left her to rest. By the time the door closed to her room, Hermione felt the unconquerable surge of sleep overpower her and her eyelids fluttered closed.

But not before she had memorised the last look upon his face.

 

In the late evening, Harry arrived for supper and the affair was a lot brighter than when it was just Hermione and Lucius dining. The familiar grin and slightly sheepish shrug of the wizarding world's hero made Hermione smile more than once during the meal and she even managed to laugh in a moment where her pain was forgotten.

"And so, Kingsley told him to pack up and go unless he wanted Hagrid on his back!"

"Really?" Hermione laughed out as she set down her cutlery to let the short wave of mirth pass. To her left, Lucius sat silent and absorbed, neither smiling or frowning, but looking down at his plate with unseeing pensiveness and only glancing up now and then when the sound of Harry and Hermione's laughter disturbed his thoughts.

"Yes," Harry replied with his boyish grin, emerald eyes alight with mischief and delight. "McGonagall's threat."

"Oh, Hogwarts… How I miss it!" Hermione sighed with a forlorn smile. It had been too long since she had walked the halls that had kept her safe for six years. She had been hoping to perhaps apply for job as a professor there if her position at the Ministry didn't work out, but all those plans had been dashed with the acknowledgement of the unknown curse.

Hermione looked up when she felt a hand land gently on hers and was met with Harry's startling green eyes as he locked gazes with her. She didn't have to hear anything from him to convince her of his sincerity; she would always be able to trust him and believe him. If anyone was a friend, Harry was…

"Hermione, I know it's been hard for you to suddenly move out and come live here in this grotty place, and then stop going to work and not even being able to see your parents," Harry said in a more serious tone that commanded her silent attention. "But believe me, it is entirely for your sake. I wish it could be different, and maybe when we know a bit more about the curse, we'll know its limits and lengths, but for now, I hope you'll forgive me for making you stay here."

"Harry…" Hermione began, but stopped, not knowing quite how to answer.

"I've got some good news though," Harry went on with a quick smile when he realised she was searching for words. "You remember Knockturn Alley?"

"Of course I do."

"Well, we've managed to clean it up good and proper, so now, there's not a single speck of Dark Arts to be found there!"

"Oh wow! That's really, really good! I didn't know that was going to happen!" Hermione exclaimed in surprise, feeling joyful at the thought of one less location where the Dark Arts could manifest itself. However, amidst the smiling, she felt the tall figure sitting a short distance from her stiffen and she stole a glance at the man who had known the alley so well in its former existence.

"All the shops have been transformed and Kingsley's got people watching the place just for good measure," Harry carried on enthusiastically, unaware of the tense, silent elder Malfoy or of his friend's quiet concern for her protector.

"I even asked the others' advice, and well…maybe you'd like to go visit the alley tomorrow? With Mr Malfoy of course," Harry suggested, the last notes of his sentence sounding a little nervous and hesitant, unknowing of what answer would come.

Hermione paused to take in his words, and by the time they registered, she was grinning with sheer glee at the thought of getting out of the house where she was constantly reminded of the injustice of pureblood supremacy. Although the days had passed without her noticing just how they rose and faded, she realised upon contemplation that she needed to get out and discover society again. However, she was not a fool enough to forget the latter part of Harry's proposal and before she gave her answer, she turned to look at Lucius to gauge his reaction.

"If it is your wish," he said without bothering to meet her eyes or look at her for longer than a second. Hermione flashed him a grateful smile nonetheless and gave a wider smile to Harry as her reply.

"Great! I'll be at work, but you'll be fine because it's all safe now," Harry reassured Hermione in his brotherly way as he pushed away his finished plate. "But we also thought that it might be handy for everyone if you went disguised."

"Me?" Hermione asked in surprise, having completely forgotten what the rest of the world might think if she showed up in a public street with a Malfoy beside her.

"Maybe Mr Malfoy too," Harry said, glancing at Lucius, who gave a curt nod in return, seemingly knowing that there was little use in objecting to any of the decisions.

"I brought some Polyjuice Potion for the purpose and I got a hair sample of one of my work colleagues who won't be at work tomorrow," Harry explained, pulling out a glass flask of unappealing greyish brown liquid and a small cylinder with a single blond hair in it from a bag. He handed the items over to Hermione who studied with mild interest while Harry looked over at Lucius again.

"I'm sorry, Mr Malfoy, but I didn't have time to arrange things with any other colleagues today, so you'll have to either go as yourself or find someone to change into," Harry said a little apologetically, unsure of how the older man would take it.

"I will live," Lucius reassured him in a dry tone as he carefully laid down his knife and fork on his empty plate and excused himself from the table. Both Hermione and Harry watched him leave the kitchen in anxious silence, slightly unnerved by his surprisingly quietened manner and his preoccupied stance.

"Is everything alright? I mean, with him?" Harry asked Hermione in a low voice, leaning across the table so she could hear him while simultaneously glancing at the closed door of the room.

"Yes, everything's fine," Hermione replied steadily, ignoring the little voices in her head that suggested otherwise. "He's not done anything horrible. In fact, he's actually quite normal these days."

"Good. I – I just wanted to make sure you're alright staying in the same house as him," Harry told her with a small, worried frown appearing on his forehead. His brows knit further as a look of anxiety and awkwardness bloomed on his face.

"If he… If he does anything that doesn't seem right to you, you know I'll always be here, right?"

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione replied quietly with a small smile. "But really, there's nothing to worry about. He's far saner than we thought. He's not stupid enough to do anything."

"Still, you know to call me if you need anything?" Harry pressed on fervently, almost making Hermione laugh good-naturedly at his sweet insistence.

"Of course! Who else would I call?"

"I dunno. Draco?"

"Yeah right. Because he's always been such a good friend to me," Hermione snickered with heavy sarcasm as they both rose from the table and Harry pulled on his long black coat of wool and his maroon scarf.

"Well, these Malfoys seem to be showing a bit more niceness than I ever imagined," Harry said in mock seriousness as he walked down the hallway towards the front door, Hermione following him. "I've heard some of the people at work say that Draco hasn't been too bad. He's managed to work his way into one of the lesser departments of the Law Enforcement Squad."

"Law Enforcement Squad?" Hermione repeated with a laugh of surprise, coming to a halt as Harry stopped to open the door.

"Yup. And he's not bad at his job, from what I hear."

"Oh, well, at least he's doing something right," Hermione sighed as Harry opened the door and let himself out. "Thanks for letting me go to Knockturn Alley. I've been dying to get out of the house."

"Honestly, Hermione, no one's stopping you from going anywhere. No one except Mr Malfoy maybe," Harry chuckled as he made his way down the stone steps into the darkness of the night. He turned around briefly just as he reached the gate and gave Hermione a quick grin before he was a blurry silhouette beneath the orange of the streetlamps.

Hermione smiled wistfully at the figure who was free to walk away into the night and she stepped back inside to close the door with a heavy heart once more. The promise of visiting Knockturn Alley excited her, but her exhilaration stilled somewhat when she regarded the gloomy interior of the house.

With a sigh, she began to climb the stairs. She still had another night to endure before the day would bring new treats.


	13. XII

26\. Knockturn Alley

Hermione rose in the morning with excitement glowing inside her, eager to be on her way to Knockturn Alley and far away from the somewhat claustrophobic walls of Grimmauld Place. Her sleep had been punctuated by a confusing swirl of her usual dreams, but she was getting better at handling them. Ever since she had managed to master Occlumency, she had begun to be able to pull herself out of a nightmare if she tried hard enough. Despite the sense of fear that lingered in her from seeing Bellatrix's hollowed and twisted face, Hermione felt a lot happier than previous mornings.

Feeling the buzz of excitement spread along her limbs, she hurried over to her wardrobe to quickly look over the small collection of witch's robes she had taken to wearing and after a short moment of contemplation, pulled out a simple robe of deep blue. She knew she would be taking a dose of the Polyjuice Potion before she went, and she fretted and worried as she brushed her hair, wondering what the owner pf the hair that Harry had given her the night before looked like. He had mentioned that it was from the head of one his work colleagues, but Hermione was both eager and nervous to know just who.

When she was done with her morning routine, she smoothed out any crinkles in the dress and headed downstairs to find Lucius. She had realised from the first time she had worn robes around the house, that they were tailored finely, and meant she had to be sure to make all her actions elegant and smooth if she wished to avoid splitting any seams. Having experienced the feeling of wearing witch's attire, Hermione didn't find it so hard to imagine the grace that women such as Narcissa had to constantly display; a single careless movement, and the dress could be ruined.

The whole business seemed ridiculous in some ways, but despite her steadfast feelings on finding fashion to be time-wasting and a sport for idlers, Hermione was beginning to enjoy wearing clothes that identified her more clearly to the wizarding world. For once, she felt like a real witch, able to walk around with the full confidence of a woman who knew what she was doing. It was silly that an image could be so profound, but Hermione had noticed from the way Lucius glanced at her with a hint of approval in his usually unexpressive eyes, that she looked more the part of a witch.

By the time she had reached the kitchen, she was humming to herself and even smiling, the agreeable winter sunshine outside making her all the more good-humoured. She glanced around the long room, but found it to be empty of anyone else. The fact that Lucius didn't seem up and about caused her to frown slightly as she was so accustomed to seeing him awake before her, but she let the matter go as she wandered over to the counter to fix herself a cup of tea.

The sun that was shining through the long window above the sink made the few remaining raindrops from the storm that had raged the night before gleam against the cold glass pane, magnifying light spots which were dotted around the dim room. Hermione surveyed everything with something of a new eye, feeling more refreshed than she had felt in a long time and unable to stop smiling. The kettle began to hoot and whistle as the water boiled, and as she prepared her drink, Hermione thought back to the day before, when Lucius had allowed her one more step towards equality by accepting her request to address him by his first name.

"Lucius… Lucius…" She tried out loud, rolling the name over her tongue as if tasting something for the first time. It felt strange and alien to say it, but the fact that it meant so much caused her to relish it even more. She smiled wider when she imagined Lucius's reaction at her using her newly acquired leverage. No doubt he would be far from pleased.

Still grinning at the thought of his shocked expression and sipping at her hot tea, Hermione made her way back upstairs to the drawing room, knowing that if he wasn't in there, it would be only a matter of time before he was. There was a spring in her step as she ascended the stairs, careful not to tread or trip on the hem of her robes as they had been a fair price, having originally been intended for more formal events. However, she was officially going out for the first time in weeks, and that in itself was an event of sorts. With a quiet laugh of the excitement she couldn't tame, she opened the door, and as she looked into the room, she dropped the mug she was holding in her hands and it fell to the floor with a crash, spilling tea everywhere.

Then, she screamed.

For there, sitting in the armchair usually occupied by Lucius, sat a strikingly handsome and clean-shaven gentleman with glossy black hair that fell gracefully into his eyes, his high cheekbones and well-shaped nose giving him the definite air of a patrician. As Hermione gave a shriek of surprise, cool brown eyes looked up at her and the man's thin lips curled in a smug expression.

"And a good morning to you too," a strangely familiar voice drawled out of the stranger's mouth.

Hermione stared in shock for several moments, hands raised before her as her body remained frozen, steam rising lazily from the remains of her tea that had spilt on the carpet. It took her several moments to realise what had happened, and when she reached the conclusion, her astonishment quickly turned to irritation and embarrassment.

"Lucius?"

The stranger flinched a little at the sound of the name, long fingers curling around the end of the armrests with tension riddled in the tendons. Hermione let her arms drop as she marvelled at the sound of the name coming out of her lips. It sounded so…unfamiliar when she said it, and she half-wondered if she had even spoken it right.

"Miss Granger," the dark-haired man answered at length, rising from his seat with unhurried movements and standing up just as tall as Lucius' real form would have been.

"Is it – is it really you?" Hermione asked hesitantly, slowly coming forwards to examine him better, finding his new face somewhat familiar, like an echo of a face she had known before.

"Indeed it is, albeit with a few temporary alterations," Lucius said with an elegant little shrug, his lips forming the ghost of a smile.

"And just how did you manage to obtain a hair to use?" Hermione asked with a frown, trying to remember who had looked like the face that Lucius had borrowed.

"I went on a Muggle hunt," he calmly replied, while Hermione jerked upright and stared at him with disbelief etched on her face.

"WHAT?"

"Do learn to take a joke, Miss Granger," Lucius said breezily, waving one hand dismissively while his eyes made quick observations of her dress code for the day. "And I thought I was the one with no humour," he added, almost as if talking to himself.

"I just… I'm just surprised to see you like…this!" Hermione said, tripping over her words in her continued astonishment and relief at knowing he had been joking.

"Well, whatever you do, I'd advise you to go and get ready; it is already approaching ten o' clock," Lucius rapped out in his patronising manner, the haughty look even more pronounced on his new face.

"Fine, but first tell me just whose hair you plucked?" Hermione queried with narrowed eyes, feeling suspicious about Lucius' victim.

"I am surprised you do not recognise me; I thought you knew Black better," Lucius remarked as an answer, tilting his head back slightly to gaze down his nose at Hermione in the way he often did. His words immediately made a bulb light in Hermione's head as she recalled seeing a picture of Sirius in his younger days, his fetching, slightly rugged face exactly the same as the one Lucius was now disguised as.

"You found a hair of Sirius'?"

"Much as it displeases me to say so, yes," Lucius admitted, his lip curling slightly in disgust at the thought. "Black's room is as filthy as ever and believe me, devouring a hair of someone who has been dead for the past five years is no pleasant thing," he continued with disdain spreading across his fine features.

"Yes, well, that's the bad side of Polyjuice Potion," Hermione sighed, remembering the horror of unwittingly using a cat hair she had mistaken for Millicent Bulstrode's back in her second year at Hogwarts. "You can't be picky."

"Indeed," Lucius agreed in a tone of distaste, his eyes gazing off at the great tapestry that covered all four walls of the room. Hermione took a few more moments to scrutinise him then, trying to accept the fact that although it was supposedly Sirius she was standing in the room with, it was actually Lucius. She couldn't stop thinking what it would be like if Sirius were with her, still alive. She bit her lip as she tried not to think about the man who had once given their Trio so much hope and been like a favourite uncle to them all. Lucius' discovery of the photo of her as a young girl also haunted her, and she felt confused as to what Sirius had really been. The image of the brash, brave man that Hermione had come to believe as the definition of a hero had been warped by guilty suspicions that she preferred not to think about. Much to her anxiety, she always felt confused and frightened of what Sirius had been whenever his name was mentioned as it caused her to remember him. Either way, seeing him in the flesh was disturbing, more because he was supposed to be dead, rather than her own qualms.

Looking at him, Hermione wanted to ask him what had really happened to him as he fell through the veil, but when she met the cold, hard, brown eyes, it occurred to her that Sirius' eyes had never looked like that. They were the eyes of a different man altogether; a man who never laughed and joked like Sirius, nor did he ever smile that crooked smile that had immediately won Hermione over. No, it was clear that this wasn't Sirius, no matter how much the physical form replicated him. When he spoke, the voice wasn't the light-hearted quality of Sirius', but it was the smooth, rolling drawl that had become rather familiar to Hermione of late.

"Was there anything else, Miss Granger?" Lucius was asking her, his eyes as cold as ever, the changed colour of the iris making no difference to his eternally hardened orbs.

"Um…"

"I suggest getting ready. We should leave soon if you wish to return before lunch," Lucius hinted a little more strongly, eyes indicating for her to run along. Hermione gave a nod as she waved away the broken mug and tea with her wand, leaving for her room while her head still whirred with contradicting thoughts and theories.

 

Lucius allowed a smile to grace his lips for a short moment after he had made certain that the Granger girl had gone back upstairs. It amused him to see her so confused and shocked, and he thought that drinking the stale-tasting potion had almost been worth seeing her so shaken. It was probably wrong of him to find enjoyment in such childish pranks, but the dreadfulness of boredom had got to him and sometimes, he couldn't quite stop himself.

Besides, riling up Granger had become Lucius' favourite and only pastime, seeing as there was little else to do when he could find nothing to help him solve the problem of the curse. Despite having shown severe indifference the night before when Potter had mentioned a trip to Knockturn Alley, Lucius was secretly pleased that they would be able to mingle in society once again, and also get their hands on books that might have more information.

Having always been a prominent figure in the wizarding world, keeping out of the public eye felt oppressive and difficult for Lucius, but he also knew and accepted that he would never be able to walk out and be seen as someone to be respected ever again. His own shame wouldn't allow him to make any appearances yet as he feared and hated the constant whispering that was bound to start as he, a crushed and humiliated pureblood had to acknowledge that the puritan ideas of his kind were nothing more than dispersed disillusions. Seeing the Granger girl was always a bitter reminder of everything that had gone wrong. His side was supposed to have won, and her presence was a constant finger of fate's mockery that rubbed the salt into his fresh wounds and left him sore from the sheer bluntness of the truth.

At times, it angered him to see everything that he had strived against, had won out in the end, proving him wrong beyond all measures. He had always been too arrogant to be able to accept that he had made mistakes, but when he had realised that his entire life had been a mistake…

Azkaban had felt like a strange sort of haven in the first instant of his incarceration. The timing had been perfect; any longer, and he would probably have been pushed into executing desperate measures that would have either got him or his family killed. The Dark Lord's power had held him under a spell for a long time, but even he, Lucius, had recognised the ultimate power of reality. In the times when his doubts and uncertainty had left him agonised, fate had shaped events so that he had been taken away, far from everything he had known to think it all over.

Azkaban had been hell; but a purgatory one at least. As a wealthy pureblood who had been accustomed to luxuries and extravagances, the sheer emptiness and intense loneliness of the prison had broken Lucius; mind, body and soul. For someone who prided themselves on their steely indifference, Lucius had been shamed beyond imagination by his breakdown. That humiliation he had felt had pained him more than any curse he had ever felt, and he had come to realise that his immense suffering which had threatened to cripple him forever, had been of his own doing. All the years of his ignorant pride had recoiled back on him in the shape of complete and utter humiliation, and although it had been the worst and most painful lesson to learn, he had learnt a lot in the dark months spent in his cell.

Yet no one would understand what he had been through; not even Narcissa with whom he shared a close connection and Draco, his beloved son. For the first time when he had come home speaking sense, they had turned away from him in mistrust, unwilling to listen in the hours of when they had needed decisions the most. The power he had once wielded with such ease had been washed away by the closed minds of others, and he had even lost influence in his own household. Those last few months had been silent torture for him; having the Dark Lord residing in the house that was rightfully Lucius' had both incensed him and made him build deep resentment for the man whom he had once been proud to call 'master'.

Nobody had ever wanted to listen to Lucius; nobody except Dumbledore and the Granger girl, of all people. The dreadful irony of it all made Lucius crack a mirthless smile as he began slowly pacing the length of the drawing room.

Albus Dumbledore; Lucius had fought so hard to be rid of the old man during Draco's second year, and still, he had been thwarted, not only by the Headmaster, but by the damn Potter boy as well. Not to mention Dobby, his old house-elf, but upon second thoughts, he really didn't wish to call up the embarrassing memories of being thrown down the stairs by his own elf. The shame he had felt then, still burnt him enough to make him emit a quiet growl of anger.

Yet time and time again during that disastrous year, Lucius had had the feeling that Dumbledore had known something about him that was like a secret between the two of them. It had disturbed Lucius to know that someone was actually offering to listen and understand him when he had survived a lifetime without any comprehension from any other human being, Narcissa excluded. He could recall even now, feeling uncertain as the bright blue eyes twinkled their invitation to him, presenting him with the chance to blurt out the endless chain of thoughts that he had always made sure to keep to himself. Only Dumbledore had ever extended such an offer to him, yet Lucius had turned it away savagely, his fierce actions an excuse to hide the fact that he had been scared to be let down by anyone, should he share anything with them.

Lucius paused in his movements to stare at the slow hands of the clock above the mantelpiece, mind caught elsewhere as he mulled over his own thoughts. He had called Dumbledore a fool and a Muggle-lover who wasted his wisdom on idiot theories about love. Yet in some ways, Lucius now realised that it was he who had been the fool; he who had been too proud and ignorant to protect his family from the suffering he had brought upon them. Sitting in Azkaban had taught him to accept and acknowledge his past mistakes. There had been nothing there but cold stone walls to taunt and judge him in his injudiciousness and his pain had been the fair punishment for a lifetime of deceit.

It was strange then, that someone whom he had always dismissed with a sneer and an unkind look would show such eagerness to forgive. Granger was a clear example of how Dumbledore's followers should have turned out; she wouldn't stop showing unnerving tendencies to empathise with Lucius, and he found it both irritating and unsettling. His irritation was mainly due to the fact that when she asked for him to tell her things, he always felt obliged to, despite having been a man who treasured privacy above many things in life. Perhaps it was the timing; he had grown tired of living through a mesh of lies and falsity. Sometimes, he just longed to see things in plain simplicity and have his life spin around him in crystal clarity. He could see that Granger was obviously blissfully lost in her own honest, innocent existence and it annoyed him to see someone living the dream that had become his more and more by the day.

He was distracted from his rambling thoughts as the door to the drawing room opened again, and a pretty blond woman strolled in, her petite frame wearing the same robes that he had seen the Granger girl wearing a short while ago. It took him a moment to gather his senses as he had been deeply embroiled in his own mind, and by the time he had realised that it was Granger under the effects of the Polyjuice Potion, she had already seen his slight frown of confusion and was smiling, showing off the bright white teeth of someone else.

"Nice to meet you," Granger said with a light-hearted laugh that sounded surprisingly pleasant and welcoming to Lucius' ears.

"Miss…Granger?" he drawled in mock hesitancy, feeling the shadows of his dark past lift as he immersed himself in reality again.

"Who else?" the girl trilled with a beaming smile, looking far happier than she had in a long time.

"I do hope you realise that you have undergone a physical transformation, therefore you are no longer looking like your old self," Lucius told her in his more pretentious manner, feeling in the mood to humour her for once.

"Yes, I'm not stupid," she quipped with a mischievous glint in her green eyes. Lucius gave a slight smile as he wondered whether he should voice the retort that was just waiting to be said, when the new Hermione pressed on.

"And don't answer that with anything less than pleasant!"

"Very well," Lucius replied with an incline of his head. "I shall be as pleasant as one may, but be warned, my charm will expire the moment I am rid of this face."

"And then we're back to the vampire again," Hermione muttered loud enough for him to hear as she checked the neat black handbag she had chosen for the outing and made a show of pretending she hadn't noticed that he had heard her last remark.

"A vampire?" Lucius asked, raising his brow like he always did while the girl looked up at him with unfamiliar green eyes.

"Who said that?" she asked with a look of feigned surprise on her new face, the expression oddly amusing and almost making Lucius smile.

"A fool," Lucius supplied with one of his false smiles, meaning it both as a joke and a jibe. He could see from the way Granger's face clouded for a moment then resumed its cheerfulness, that she was too happy to allow his words to ruin the day.

"What names! The vampire and the fool!" she chirped as she slung her bag daintily over her shoulder.

"Indeed," Lucius answered dryly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her sudden bout of childish banter, which in truth, was fairly entertaining and charming to see. Still, Lucius didn't wish to admit even to himself that her excitement was infectious as he himself could feel the adrenalin circuiting his body. Not wishing to make a slip of any sort, he cleared his throat and pulled on his black cloak and gloves that were resting on his armchair and gestured towards the door.

"We should go; it is almost ten."

"Yes, yes! Let's go!" the Granger girl said with a few vigorous nods as she led the way ahead, humming away as she went down the stairs. Lucius forced himself to be patient with her like he had countless times; telling himself that it was better to see her cheerful than moping around the house like a lost ghost.

With a private little sigh, he followed in her wake, excited and nervous beneath his calm mask as he contemplated the thought of going out in public once again.

 

Knockturn Alley was just how Harry had described it; completely transformed. Hermione couldn't stop staring in wonder as she stood frozen under the archway that joined it to Diagon Alley. Everywhere she looked, there was no sign of dingy shops and dwellings which had existed previously during darker times. Not a single stand selling suspicious things stood along the lane and if she hadn't seen the street sign herself, she might have mistaken it as part of Diagon Alley, or something even better.

The shops that lined the cobbled walkway had large, shapely windows that were filled with bright and interesting objects of positive nature. The new dwellings above the rows of shops looked smart and new, despite the Ministry having kept the original buildings. Everything had been polished so that it looked new, and it was hard to believe that the alley had once been the home of the Dark Arts.

An intake of breath beside her told Hermione that Lucius was equally surprised by the changes, although she wasn't sure if he was pleased or horrified by the sight. Harry had let them know that there was an Apparition point from near the Ministry directly to the south entrance of Knockturn Alley, which was also the junction of the two lanes, and they had arrived by that way. The bustling of people going about their business had actually made Hermione grin. It was so nice to be standing and sharing the winter sunshine with other shoppers.

Breathing the fresh crisp air and feeling the cool wind on her face made life seem that much brighter, and Hermione couldn't wait to go find a bookshop and see everything and everyone on her way. Too preoccupied to think of saying a word to Lucius, she made her way down the few stone steps and began walking, looking around and studying the shops as she passed them. She was in the middle of looking over a shop selling racing brooms when her shoulder bumped into someone and she stumbled slightly. A pair of hands steadied her, and when she turned to thank the stranger, she was met with the freckled face of none other than George Weasley.

He looked quite the part in his magenta work robes which clashed magnificently with his flaming red hair. There was a slight grin on his face as he helped Hermione and she immediately smiled back, overjoyed to see a familiar face.

"Sorry, miss, but I wasn't looking where I was going," George said in his laid-back tone, his smile widening while Hermione's faltered slightly. "Hope I'm forgiven?"

"Uh – Yes, of course," Hermione answered in confusion, not quite sure why George was acting so…flirty.

"How about if I took you for a drink or a bite to eat somewhere? I'd feel much better if you'd kindly oblige me with that favour," he said to her in his most charming manner, his brown eyes twinkling in a suggestive way as he offered her his hand.

"Oh," Hermione answered in surprise, looking back and forth between his grinning face and his hand. "I'd like to, but I'm afraid I have –"

"Other things to do," a smooth voice finished for her, while a hand landed on her shoulder. Still feeling a little bewildered, Hermione turned her head to see her dark-haired companion standing at her side, the hand a protective gesture to George, who was now frowning at the intrusion.

"Come," Lucius said to Hermione without taking his eyes off George. "We must be going."

"Yes. Yes, of course," Hermione agreed while the hint of hope on George's face fell away and he cast her a regretful look.

"Maybe some other time?" he offered to Hermione with a slight smile.

"There will be no other time," Lucius told him curtly as he began to guide Hermione forwards with his hand. "Now, if you will excuse us."

Hermione had no choice but to walk forwards as Lucius' grip tightened on her shoulder to the point of it being painful, but she couldn't help glancing back at George and giving him an apologetic smile as they walked away. When they had passed several more shops and were mingled with witches and wizards who passed to and fro, Lucius suddenly stopped her and pulled her over to a window that was displaying some fashionable robes and turned her to face them.

"What in the name of Merlin do you think you are doing?" he hissed at her in a low tone so that other passersby couldn't hear him. Hermione was taken aback by his sudden demand and she couldn't quite find the words to answer for a moment. Their eyes were staring at each other through their reflections on the glass so that other shoppers would only see a dark-haired handsome man apparently glaring at the robes and a young blond woman with a look of worry upon her face standing next to him.

"I…" Hermione started, not quite sure how to best summarise her thoughts, but Lucius interrupted her before she could say anything more.

"It would serve us both well if you would remember that you are not Miss Granger," he reminded her in a low voice, sounding a little calmer than before as he exercised his patience.

"I was just surprised to see George and I completely forgot," Hermione said in her defence, wanting to kick herself for her own stupidity.

"I hope I won't have to remind you every time you see someone you know," Lucius murmured before his eyes left hers and roved over the sign hanging over the shop and his attention actually turned to the robes he had been staring at before. There was a tinkle of a bell as a young woman with dark curls and a slightly nervous smile on her face came out and greeted them, her uniformed robes letting them know that she was an assistant.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a voice that held the tiniest tremor, her dark eyes glancing at Hermione before turning to gaze with awe at Lucius. Hermione was about to smile and shake her head, when she heard Lucius clear his throat.

"Actually, I wouldn't mind a new suit," he drawled in his most pleasant tone, making Hermione marvel at how quickly he had changed his entire bearing. She was brought out of her silent wonder as he turned to her and asked her something.

"Um… Pardon?" Hermione said, blushing a little at having missed his words.

"Would you like some new clothes?"

Hermione stared at him for a moment, wondering why he was asking her such a thing. She knew that he was free to buy anything he wished, but she hadn't expected him to go clothes shopping with her. All the males she knew had a fervent dislike of clothes shopping and much preferred visiting broom stores or George's shop. Yet here she was, being asked by Lucius, albeit under heavy disguise, if she wanted to buy something. She made some quick calculations in her mind and realised that although she didn't exactly harbour a fortune, she could afford to buy a new set of robes, perhaps even two. At her nod of assent, they entered the large premises of Velours & Soie.

 

Forty minutes later, they were back on the street, each holding in their arms a paper package that was wrapped around their order. Hermione had left the shop with new robes of hunter green, after Lucius had vetoed against the crimson that had caught her eye. She had also bought a new silky nightie in the most beautiful midnight blue and Lucius had had a wizarding suit of his normal shade of black made for him, having corrected the assistant with the measurements and telling him the exact size of his real body. Hermione had been lucky; the woman she was walking around as had a similar shape as her, if an inch or two taller and slightly more curvaceous. Still, adjusting with wandwork was hardly a challenge for Hermione, so she was happy with her buys.

She and Lucius had both decided that a bookshop was their next stop, and their eyes flitted around to catch any signs of one. Their mission took them all the way to the other end of Knockturn Alley, where they finally came across a large bookstore under the wooden sign of Quill & Ink. All Hermione had to do was glance at the displays in the window to know that she was going to love the store. The door tinkled like most shop doors as they walked in, eyes greeted by the awe-inspiring sight of a long room with neat aisles of tall shelves containing nothing but books. Each row had a sliding ladder and there were signs hanging above each lane that stated the category of the books.

Hermione looked around with awe, inhaling the wonderful smell of leather and parchment while her eyes wandered over the different aisles and settled on the ones holding books about Transfiguration and Charms. She hardly noticed the other customers who were milling about as all she could think about was books, books, books. It took her a moment to collect herself when she felt a hand taking hold of her elbow and guiding her towards a row at one end of the shop where the bindings of the thick tomes were of a darker colour, a slightly ominous aura pulsing from them.

"The Dark Arts and related subjects," she read out loud as she glanced up at the sign above their heads. Lucius didn't bother adding any remarks, but went about browsing the shelves, eyes flying swiftly over the many volumes, most of them ancient-looking hardbacks. Hermione watched him as he searched, wondering if many people came by these days to peruse these particular shelves. She was aware that there was only a short while until they had to take another dose of Polyjuice Potion if they wished to remain in their current forms, and told Lucius so, but he seemed to be too busy to hear her properly.

"Lucius?" Hermione tried again, her efforts being rewarded as he straightened up again to shoot her a sharp look.

"Do not use that name here," he reprimanded her curtly, dark eyes narrowed slightly. Hermione gave him an apologetic look for making such a noticeable and obvious gaffe.

"What should I call you?" she asked as he turned away to pull out a book on one of the higher shelves.

"Spinks," he replied as he looked over the spines of the other books, and Hermione saw that his borrowed name was actually that of the author of Tales and Lores of the Dark Arts.

"And what am I supposed to be called?" she questioned as he swiftly flipped through several chosen books.

"Gingold. Miss Gingold will do for now," Lucius told her smoothly, as if he had thought it out a long time ago. Hermione merely accepted with a nod, glad to let someone else take charge of the situation. She was about to go for a quick exploration of the rest of the store, when Lucius spoke again.

"Ah, perfect. This shall suffice for now," he murmured as he glanced over the four heavy books in his arms and began striding purposefully towards the counter at the back of the shop, Hermione following in his steps. There was a short queue of shoppers with books already, and they had to line up behind them, Lucius looking around impatiently for signs of a clock. Hermione was beginning to worry also, but distracted herself by looking at a shelf nearby and deciding upon a whim, to buy something for the long dull days she was sure were bound to come. She joined Lucius again in the waiting line with two small books of her own, trying to not feel nervous when he glanced down at what she had got.

"The Lexicon of Spells and Understanding The Dark Arts… What an interesting choice," Lucius commented as he smiled slightly, confusing Hermione with the ambiguity of his tone.

"I shall buy them for you," he continued, making Hermione stare at him in surprise.

"I can afford them, you know," Hermione reminded him a little tersely, feeling slightly pleased, but also annoyed that he had made such an offer.

"I am fully aware that you are no pauper, Miss Gingold. I just wish to exercise a little generosity," Lucius breezed on graciously, attracting the admiring looks of some older witches who were standing in front of them. Hermione couldn't stop a smile appearing on her own lips, but as she casually glanced around, the expression died immediately when her eyes found a tall, young man standing further up the queue.

He had his back to her, but there was no mistaking the sleek white-blond hair that fell just past his ears and the pale skin of his neck that looked even more pallid against the black of his clothes. Her heart had picked up its pace and she stood frozen, struggling to decide whether she should pretend she had seen him or not. The fact that Lucius was standing beside her was not lost on her, and she sincerely hoped that he had not seen Draco yet, as there were customers standing in the way.

Hermione wasn't sure just exactly what Lucius would do if he saw his son, but she didn't want to take the risk and so remained silent, stepping a little closer to Lucius so that she was hidden from Draco's view, should he turn around. Peeking around the women in front of her who were quietly chatting, she almost jumped when her eyes met Draco's light grey pair as he turned from the counter and made his way towards her with a book under his arm. As he drew nearer, Hermione feared that his eyes would light with recognition, but realised when he merely glanced disinterestedly at her, that she wasn't Hermione Granger in body.

She straightened up immediately and wondered how to distract Lucius, but it was too late; he had already seen. She felt him standing stiffly next to her, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the books tighter. She herself felt tense as Draco walked past with swift strides, bearing himself so differently than he had during his schooldays.

He no longer walked with an arrogant strut, but his stance was that of a humbled and perhaps even humiliated man, eyes cast down and unable to meet those of a stranger lest they be hostile against him. Hermione felt pity stir deeply within her as she watched him reach the door and pause as an older wizard entered the shop, casting Draco a slight look of disdain as he passed.

Hermione felt Lucius start forwards as he caught the look on the other man's face, degrading and sneering at his son. Hermione could understand the pain and anger Lucius had to be feeling at having to watch his own child being debased, but she knew it would be a disaster if he was to spring into action, like she knew he was raring to do now. As soon as he took a step forwards, she quickly took hold of his hand and squeezed it tightly, feeling anxious and fearful for everyone's sake. For a moment, she thought that he would tear out of her grip anyway and go after the man who had humiliated Draco so bluntly in public, but when she pulled at his arm and whispered his name fervently, he paused in his movements and Hermione could see that his eyes were aflame with rage.

"Lucius," she whispered to him urgently, squeezing his hand again as he continued to watch Draco hurriedly leave the building. "Lucius, please."

The sound of her voice seemed to break the spell that had been holding him, and she waited as he slowly loosened up, his eyes swivelling from the door back to Hermione. She could see that his ire was far from having been dispelled, but she was grateful that he was a man of incredible self-control, and was keen to keep him from attacking his son's persecutor who had strolled off down the far aisle. She watched as he slowly turned to face the counter, the muscle in his jaw working furiously as he silently vented his frustration at being in such a helpless position. It saddened and pained Hermione to see him in such anguish, and when he unintentionally squeezed her hand, she let it pass without a sound even though his iron grip hurt her delicate bones.

Before long, they were at the counter, their books being wrapped up in a parcel by an assistant. Upon Lucius' curt order, the somewhat frightened assistant had stopped what he'd been doing and had accepted the bag of coins Lucius had unceremoniously thrown on the counter. Hermione gave her second apologetic smile of the day as she hurried after Lucius who had started ahead with the books. When she was back outside, she began looking around for him, but her search was cut short as he appeared immediately at her side.

"We must get back," he announced abruptly, his laconic tone leaving no room for argument. While Hermione felt sad that she didn't have more time to wander the bright alleyways and all the new shops, she understood that Lucius was in no state to see anymore of society and she followed him to the Apparition point without a single word of protest. It occurred to her just as they made ready to go, that the effects of the Polyjuice Potion were about to disappear and she felt like Cinderella as she twisted around to Apparate, being called away as the clock chimed midnight.

They arrived back in the deserted square of Grimmauld Place a moment later, a tall man with a mane of white-blond hair and a petite young woman with bushy brown hair. No words passed between them as they hurried to the grey-faced building of Number Twelve, but Hermione knew that there would be enough time to talk once inside the walls of the house.

 

27\. Demons of the Past

Flames leapt merrily in the grate as the day drew in around Number Twelve, leaving the house gloomy and dim once more. Cold air was forever seeping in through the many cracks in the crumbling walls and Hermione had had to put more effort in than usual to get a good fire started. There was an uneasy silence as she went about the task, always aware of the stony, brooding man sitting tensely in a nearby armchair. Every time she glanced at Lucius, she noticed that he had barely moved an inch, and his pale face remained impassive while his eyes gazed unseeingly and emotionless into the hearth.

She could only imagine the inner turmoil he had to be feeling after witnessing his son's humiliation and having to bear it all without so much as a whisper. She knew it had to be a parent's worst nightmare; to watch their child suffer and be helpless in the situation. It confirmed at least a small measure of integrity in the man she had once thought of as incapable of any true decency. Even if he had done countless of terrible things and treated her less than courteously in the past, it was not in Hermione's nature to begrudge someone who had an ounce of something that could be recognised as good within them. His pain was her pain in that moment, for seeing a person so lost in agony pulled at Hermione's heart, and the time spent alone with only Lucius as company had made her realise just how much his wellbeing meant to her. After all, who would look after her if he was to fall ill?

Quietly, Hermione called Kreacher and asked for a cup of tea before taking a woollen blanket that was folded up on the couch and walking over to Lucius. When she came to stand by his side, his head tilted up slightly to look at her briefly, but his eyes seemed to barely see her in their glazed state. Taking his silence as acceptance, Hermione slowly unfolded the blanket and draped it across his lap, careful to watch for any signs of disapproval from him. However, Lucius remained oblivious of her actions and continued to stare into the fire, his hands clutching the armrests so that his tendons were raised like ridges in his skin.

Hermione drew up another armchair to his side and turned it so that she was facing both the hearth and her companion, whose face looked grim in the shadows cast by the low light. She sat down and sighed, unsure of what she could do for Lucius. She studied him closely as he seemed not to notice her scrutiny, and saw misery and anger etched in the coldness of his features. There was a muscle tensed in his chiselled jaw and his brow was creased with a dark frown while his eyes were laced with something that Hermione recognised to be pain. Deep, dark pain.

Kreacher arrived and left with barely a sound, leaving a steaming cup of tea at Hermione's side and giving a short bow before making himself scarce. Hermione could only nod her thanks as she was so engrossed in watching Lucius as he tried to hide that which was threatening to tear him apart in anguish. When he blinked and his expression contorted into one of iron resentment, Hermione didn't think or hesitate as she reached out to touch his forearm lightly, the arm that had once borne the mark of his old master.

Lucius flinched at the flittering touch, his head immediately snapping around to stare at her as if he had only just realised that she was there. Hermione felt her heart beat a little faster in nervousness as she felt uncertain about his unpredictable reactions, but didn't withdraw her hand from his arm as their eyes held a steady gaze. As she stared into the luring bottomless pit of steely eyes, Hermione tried to straighten out the chaotic confusion mulling about her mind.

Lucius Malfoy was not a good man, and there was reason to believe that he had never been particularly innocent and sincere. Yet, he wasn't exactly a bad man either… Sometimes, it was hard to believe that Hermione had once thought of him as an enemy; someone to hate and avoid as much as life allowed. It seemed like a lifetime ago since she had faced him in Flourish & Blotts at the age of twelve, and then two years later at the Quidditch World Cup. It seemed almost impossible that she was now sitting alone in the same room as the man who had once wished to rid the world of all Muggles and Muggleborns…

But people could change; Hermione had learnt that much from Dumbledore and her nature made her naturally wish to believe that everyone had goodness inside them. It was never easy to forgive and forget when it actually came down to it, but Hermione had never been one to give up easily on other people. She wanted everyone to be able to see the light, and the challenge that came with solving the mystery of Lucius did nothing but encourage her determination. She wanted to be able to make changes in the world that she had fought for; she wished to be useful and wanted in a world which she had helped create.

Still, she somehow felt young and childish when in Lucius' company, and she had to constantly convince herself that she was old enough to be an adult like him. However, there was something about Lucius that always made a part of Hermione wilt in child-like submission, as if her subconscious recognised the undisputable authority he held, even after being humiliated and partially humbled. It was therefore more than strange for Hermione to be looking after him now as if it were he who was the one in need of caring and concern.

When she offered him the cup of tea, he took it without thinking, sipping at it as his eyes stared holes in the mantelpiece. Hermione waited for him to set the empty cup down before leaning towards him slightly to attract his attention.

"Is everything alright, Lucius?" she asked in quiet murmur, afraid to disturb the silence that had settled so thickly over them.

"Indeed, as good as life will ever be for me," he answered in a bitter drawl as his lips curved in a smile of emptiness, nothing remotely joyful about the gesture. Hermione felt the words dry up on her tongue as his reply thwarted her. She didn't know what she was supposed to say to comfort a man who was so firmly accepting of the years of desolation still to come. She was too accustomed to comforting those who might have lost loved ones, but had won their freedom. Lucius had kept his family, but has lost everything that might have meant something to him…

"It seems that luck has deserted my side for a long time now," he continued at length with a mirthless smile twisting his lips even more, furthering Hermione's silent despair at what to say.

"I – I don't know what to say…" she admitted in full honesty, thinking it best to remain candid about her uselessness in the matter.

"Then do not say anything," Lucius replied simply, his tone devoid of any particular expression as he turned his head a little to look at her. "It is better to be silent than wasting energy on useless talk."

Hermione gave a small nod of understanding as her heart sunk a little at the hopelessness presented by his frank manner. It seemed that she was better off leaving him to think things out on his own and save him the distraction her words would bring. She drew up her knees to her chest as she snuggled up against the side of her armchair, watching Lucius brood with eyes that steadily fluttered closed.

 

She was running through a dark forest. Black trees stood high and ominous around her, their tall branches reaching up like crooked fingers into the night sky. She was panting as she tripped and stumbled along an invisible path that only her feet seemed to know. The distant sound of thunder hurried on her pounding heart and she pushed on harder, uncertain of what she was fleeing from, but desperate not to stop. The black leaves rustled above her head as the ground swelled in and out of sight beneath her feet, flexing impossibly before turning into liquid as she ran.

Even as she floundered in the black tar of the contorted ground, Hermione couldn't stop the urge to run and struggled to keep going, her chest aching and her head pounding painfully. She tried to kick with her legs, but found herself going nowhere, spinning on the same spot until the ground beneath her feet became solid once more and she was standing in a grand carpeted room, the dark panels familiar in the sinister light. 

"Filthy creature!" a voice shrieked from somewhere, echoing around the deserted room while crazed cackles followed, bouncing around the walls with maddening confusion, making Hermione whirl around in a panic as she tried to locate the source of the terrifying voice.

"Mudblood! MUDBLOOD!

"Help!" Hermione yelped as she fell forwards out of her chair and landed painfully on her knees, feeling the familiar old carpet of Grimmauld Place beneath her grappling hands. Her chest was heaving as she gathered her thoughts and tried to calm herself, banishing the fear webbed in her heart by silent self-assurances that it was nothing but another nightmare. Nothing but a dream…

Looking up, she saw that the fire had died down to kindle pitiful little flames while swaying shadows loomed around the cold drawing room. A shiver went down Hermione's back as she felt the horrible loneliness and silence the house wallowed in. Glancing to her right, she could see that Lucius' chair was empty and neglected, the empty cup of tea that was by his feet gone, leaving no trace of who had been there. The reverberating rings of her lingering dream caused Hermione to shudder even more and grow panicked again, frantically wondering whether she had simply imagined Lucius' presence in the room. There was no visible sign of him anywhere to be seen and Hermione's frazzled senses ended up toying with thoughts of whether she was losing her mind.

The utter loneliness in the room was too overwhelming for Hermione, and with trembling limbs, she stood up and staggered towards the door, shivering from the cold and the familiar fear that was creeping into her bones and draining her energy. She didn't dare look around the dark corners of the room lest she would see something that would frighten her, and she didn't look back, even when she reached the door and hurried out of the empty room.

As she walked down the stairs, she swallowed nervously while trying to keep a tight leash on her nerves, the hairs on the back of her neck rising as she passed the severed elf heads spiked along the length of the banister, doing little to appease her in her state of anxiety. She clutched her wand for comfort as she descended down to the hallway that ran the length between the dark front door and the kitchen, wanting to be far away from everything that reminded her of a house which she still had nightmares about, after all the years.

The door of the kitchen stood slightly ajar, slipping out a sliver of yellow light that traced a fine line against the dark wall. Hermione could hear herself breathing a little harder than usual, her body alight with adrenalin as it coursed swiftly through her blood. The slice of light was like a beacon of hope for her, promising a safe haven to hold her away from everything that tormented her. As she quickly opened the door and shut it firmly closed behind her, she sighed in relief and leaned back against it, taking her time to calm herself. After several long seconds had passed and she was no longer feeling the full brunt of her hysteria, she opened her eyes to stare directly into cool grey orbs that were watching her with detached interest.

"Another dream?" Lucius asked in a supposedly nonchalant drawl, sitting at the long table which was unusual for him, as Hermione knew him to dislike the hard wooden backless benches that were probably a far cry from the luxury of Malfoy Manor.

"Yes," she replied quietly as she came to sit opposite him, pushing away stray strands of her bushy hair that had fallen in the way of her eyes.

"Did it occur to you to use Occlumency at all?" he asked as he watched her sit down, his gaze uncomfortably scrutinising as he seemed to find fault with every inch of her. Hermione shifted a little in the seat from embarrassment as she realised what a fool she had been and saw only a glimpse of a sneer on Lucius' face before he quickly replaced it with a cold smile.

"I take it that you did not do so," he said in his composed manner, his long fingers touching together and forming a steeple as his elbows rested on the table.

"Well, I was too tired to think of it," Hermione muttered with red blossoming on her cheeks as she withered under his mockery.

"I see," Lucius concluded in a neutral tone, giving nothing away of his thoughts. Hermione looked up at him to try and determine whether he was being sarcastic or not, but failed to find anything in his inexpressive features. She didn't protest when silence fell between them and left each to their own thoughts, and effectively cut them off from the world, but thinking out her thoughts was the last thing she wished to do right then.

She felt alone; abandoned. Her friends had effectively left her in the hands of someone she didn't know, let alone even like. The real Hermione knew that they were not to blame, but her sense of self-justice was warped from her dark thoughts, and she found herself unable to stop feeling angry. She was well aware that it was wrong to resent her family and friends for trying to keep her safe, but somehow, her logic found no headway against her raging emotions. The turmoil that fumed inside her was a struggle to hide, and all she could do was clench her hands tightly beneath the table, out of sight, digging her nails into her palms as she waited for the physical pain to distract her.

"Enough is enough, Miss Granger," Lucius' steady voice suddenly broke the silence, and Hermione jerked slightly in her seat from surprise at the sound.

"What?" she asked, completely befuddled by the expression of fatigue that Lucius wore as he gazed at her with deceiving patience.

"Perhaps you forget just how terrible you Gryffindors are at hiding your emotions," he remarked with a slight twitch of his lips while Hermione gave a quiet groan of defeat and laid her head momentarily on the table before raising it to look him in the eye.

"I'm not that bad am I?"

"Not as bad as when I first saw you," Lucius conceded with a small incline of his head. "However, you have a long way to go if you ever wish to achieve a level of subtlety.

"I suppose…" she muttered sullenly as she slumped on the bench and leaned her face in her hands, elbows propped up on the table.

"And what do you suppose?" Lucius questioned in a way that was probably of feigned interest, but it was convincing enough to cause a blockade in Hermione to shift and suddenly, she was talking without reservation.

"I don't know what to do! All these terrible things are happening to me and it's such a hopeless situation! I can't even see my parents or friends, and this place is so old and dark. Harry said he would visit, but I can't expect him to keep giving me his free time like that! And I know it's wrong, so wrong of me to think like this, but sometimes, I just – I just feel…resentful towards them. All of them! I know it's ridiculous and bad of me, but I just can't help it. I know it's not their fault, but still… It keeps coming back to me, just like all those dreams I have…" Hermione could see that Lucius had frozen and his eyes were barely moving, but her thoughts were too far away to stop her from what she had started.

"I know life was never going to be perfect, but I'm still young and sometimes, I don't even want to live on! This – this curse is driving me out of my mind and I always hear her in my sleep. Always. I mean, it just seems so – so unfair and – and I know that it's stupid of me to be complaining when there's other people out there who I'm sure are worse off and – and…"

Her words trailed off as her throat thickened up with the sobs she fought down, but the tears burst from her eyes in spite of the fight she made.

"I'm sorry," Hermione gulped hastily as she stood up abruptly, stumbling against the table's edge as the heavy bench knocked against the back of her knees. "I'm sorry," she apologised again with a deep blush as she somehow managed to climb free of the bench and attempt to leave the room with a heavily blurred sight. After bumping into the third piece of furniture she hadn't quite seen through her curtain of tears, she stuck out a hand to find the wall to guide her. For a moment, she had to pause to catch her breath, and when she stepped forwards again, she felt a hand take a firm but careful grip of her wrist and gently pull her away from the wall. She couldn't make a verbal objection as she feared she would openly begin sobbing, and adhered without a fight, feeling strong hands steer her towards the wooden chair at the end of the long table.

"Sit," a calming voice ordered her, hands gently adding pressure to her shoulders so that she had no choice but to sit down on the chair. As soon as she was safely seated, she laid her arms on the table and buried her face in them, ashamed at her own foolishness and weakness. It was undoubtedly embarrassing to be having a childish loss of self-control, but there was little Hermione could do about it, except hide. Hide from the world that had caused her so much pain. Even when she heard the soft rustle of robes, she didn't dare look up, lest she would be seen in such a pitiful and miserable state.

Her heart began to slow down to its usual pace as the seconds ticked by, the quietude of the room disturbed only by her infrequent gulps and suppressed sobs. It had been a minute or two before she noticed the presence of someone else and heard their light breathing near her ear. She struggled with herself as she decided if she could find the strength to face the world, rather than hide like a coward, and in the end, curiosity got the better of her. Peeking out through the wild strands of her hair, she saw Lucius leaning over her, one hand resting on the back of her chair while the other lay on the table, only inches away from hers. His eyes were closed, as if he was resting, and his face was tilted downwards towards her. For a moment, Hermione considered the idea that he had fallen asleep while standing at her side, but she was caught off-guard when his eyelids snapped open and she was suddenly staring into a pair of icy grey eyes, webbed with the finest of blue speckles.

"We all have our demons," Lucius said quietly, his voice holding none of the pretentious attitude that daytime usually pressed on him. Hermione was speechless, unable to find any words that wouldn't make her sound like a fool. Instead, she raised her head so that she was looking up into his face, her eyes meeting his directly in a silent connection.

"It is how we choose to fight them, that tells us apart."

Hermione sat in completely silence as she considered his words, astonished by the truth that flowed out of his mouth. Her mind was racked with too many different threads of thought for her to think clearly so she did what seemed the best idea in that moment; she listened.

"There are demons of many kinds that may torment you, but perhaps this is the way it is supposed to be. You ask why you were the one to suffer when you were innocent. There is no answer that can be given. The answer can only be found."

Hermione stared up at Lucius, her eyes travelling over his smooth features that looked mottled in the play of shadows cast upon his face. What he said seemed to make incredible sense, but a part of her didn't know if she could trust the words of a man who had managed to hoodwink and weasel his way out of one too many a situation.

"How do you… How do you know all this?" she asked in a voice barely above a whisper, secretly feeling awed by the unexpected wisdom Lucius let slip at rare moments.

"You sound so surprised," he said with a small smile, taking a step back to make distance between them.

"Well, I'm just not used to getting advice from…someone like you," Hermione explained quietly, sitting huddled on the chair, feeling the cold nip at her ankles and wrists.

"Ah. Yes, of course… No one should trust a man with a past like mine," Lucius said, his smile twisting into one of bitterness while his eyes hardened as they gazed at the raindrops that were steadily splattering against the long window of the kitchen.

"I – I didn't mean it like that," Hermione stuttered somewhat uneasily, anxious not to upset him. She now knew that the story of his past was still a very tender subject and his reactions became ever more unpredictable whenever they ventured into the forbidden topic.

"Of course you did," Lucius said with a faked smile of flawless cordiality, frightening Hermione even more than when he glared. "And who could blame you? You fought in a war when you were too young and perhaps you lost some whom you treasured. It is a tragic tale, I am sure."

His smiling sarcasm wasn't lost on Hermione, and she straightened up when she sensed the storm brewing inside him. Her ire was pricked by his careless tone, but it quickly settled when his smile was swept away by the burning torment that settled on his face and darkened his eyes.

"The pity for you war heroes makes you the prey of those who are foolish enough to lay their sympathy and support on you. They forget that there was and always is, two sides to war," Lucius continued with cold anger veined in his voice, his eyes burning black fires as they glared at the water drops gathering outside.

"Those despicable hypocrites think of themselves as generous and righteous, but what are they if they cannot forgive?" Lucius pressed on, his voice beginning to lose the calmness that he usually instilled upon himself as he let the rage within tear a hole in his armour.

"Of course, I know that I deserve nothing less than what I have…but my son? How can they hate him and dismiss him with such ignorance? They do not know what it is like to be forced into the service of the Dark Lord! They do not know what it is like to watch their son being forced into something that they never wished for! Once you are taken, you can never be free! I tried to teach Draco to follow a better path than the one I chose, in hopes of seeing him where his father could only dream of, but where are those dreams now? What is there for my son? Who will see him for who he is, not who he was?"

Hermione sat rigid in her seat, unable to believe her eyes and ears. Lucius had the lightest flush of colour in his cheeks as anger and injustice lit the dying embers of his passion, and ignited them against the unfairness of the world. Hermione could feel the tears pressing against her eyes once again as she felt his words stab at her heart. It seemed unjust, even to her, that people would always turn Draco away because of that which had stained his past. She had never understood before what is was like being a Death Eater, but the words that had escaped Lucius' lips in the heat of the moment was enough to prove that there was more to the ranks behind Voldemort than evil and unexplainable sadism.

Seeing Lucius stand with his back against the wall as he closed his eyes with a look of anguish on his face was enough to wake the empathy in Hermione, and she realised the tremendous scale of her irrelevance in the history of the world. It had been undeniably selfish of her to wish for such absurd things such as world-acknowledgment when there were still people who had lost everything in the war that had made her into a someone. Like Lucius had said, those who had chosen their side had only themselves to blame, but to think of Draco, her childhood enemy and school bully, fading away into the shadows of a society that now loathed him… It was enough to make Hermione cringe at her own childish greed and foolish self-concern.

"No matter…" Lucius said softly, making Hermione's head snap up to see him wearing a weary smile as he straightened up and opened his eyes. "We get what we deserve."

"No…" Hermione said, feeling the horror of injustice as he accepted the situation with a bitter smile.

"The phantom cries from the past… I hear them, always. Cries of those who suffered under hands that I knew, and sometimes, my own… But there is always one voice which haunts me the most," Lucius said in a calmer, musing tone as he concealed his true emotions and effortlessly donned his mask of serene composure.

"Your voice is always in my head," he said as his eyes met Hermione's, his voice dropping low and serious. "I hear your cry always, and it brings all the demons of my past with it," he confessed in a harsh whisper as he came to stand directly beside Hermione, his eyes churning with the turmoil within.

"I cannot sleep without being disturbed constantly."

Hermione stared at him in fright and alarm, worried that he was starting to lose the thread of sanity that he had appeared to hold. The cold gaze of his eyes made a shiver shoot down her back as she squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. The flashes of his changing moods made him dangerous and erratic, capable of things that Hermione preferred not to think about. Her breathing hitched and her body tensed as he slowly bent over her until his mouth was hovering besides her ear, his rapid, shallow breathing making her heart race and her hands quiver.

"I am dying, Miss Granger," Lucius continued in a barely audible murmur. "I am dying just like all men die, but it is not death that bothers me."

"Then what – what is it?" Hermione asked in a hushed whisper, all the muscles in her body rigid as the weight of the grim atmosphere gripped her.

"It is the pain that is constantly consuming me," Lucius hissed, his light breath blowing on Hermione's ear and causing her to shudder involuntarily. "That is what bothers me."

"It is the pain of guilt," Hermione blurted out, her quick mind habitually bowling out an answer before she could check herself. The moment the words passed her lips, she looked at Lucius with a hand covering her mouth, horrified by her own insensitivity. With wide eyes, she watched the grim look on his face transform into a slight frown, before he was gazing at her with narrowed eyes, his expression one of veiled curiosity.

"Guilt?" he repeated as he leaned away from her and straightened up to his full height.

"Y-yes," Hermione affirmed with a feeble little nod, anxious at what he would do next.

"Guilt…" Lucius pondered out loud as he leant lightly against the table. "Perhaps…"

"The pain of guilt is a terrible thing," Hermione added, eager to take the loose threads of his thoughts and tie the ends that were dangling before her.

"And how would you know?" Lucius fired back with his customary raised brow, his look questioning and scrutinising at the same time. Hermione gulped under the pressure he pushed upon her, but her determination propelled her towards the challenge his words threw at her.

"Because I've felt it," she reasoned, quelling her reluctance and fear to meet him in the eye with a firm look. "And I believe you're human enough to feel it too."

"Is that so?" Lucius responded in a dry voice, crushing all the zest in Hermione as her passionate speech instantly dissolved against the impossible power of his sneering tone.

"Yes," she managed to whisper despite her retreat. "Yes, I believe in you."

"You continue to surprise me," Lucius drawled as he glanced away towards the window before gazing at her intently. "A few years ago, I would have killed you without second thought, yet you now say you believe in me. I wonder what it would have taken for you to say the same thing three years ago?"

"What does it matter?" Hermione said with a shrug. "What happened in the past stays in the past. I don't care who you were back then. All that matters is who you are now."

There was an unexpected silence as Lucius failed to reply, his eyes never leaving Hermione's as she finished her sentence. A blush bloomed on Hermione's cheeks as she waited for his verdict on her words, feeling flustered and nervous at his lack of reaction. As each second ticked by, the silence seemed to grow heavier around them until it blocked out everything else except the two people in the room, both hearts beating loudly in their cages. Eyes held their gazes as the moment drew longer, meanings lost in the endless gazing. The intensity of the pale grey eyes concurrently had Hermione wanting to tear her gaze away and lean in closer. There was something about the darkness of his pupils that had her ensnared in their bottomless depths.

"Is that what you truly believe?" Lucius asked at last in a quiet murmur, breaking the silence that was threatening to drown them both.

"Yes," Hermione replied in a whisper, her eyes never leaving his. "Yes, Lucius; that is what I believe."

He swallowed with a hint of difficulty, his throat tightening and relaxing as the moment passed. Hermione noticed that his hands were clenched in hard fists and his face was frozen like marble, perfect yet tarnished in every curve and line. The muscle in his jaw twitched several times as his eyes bore into hers, showing flashes of emotions that Hermione couldn't quite catch.

"Are you – are you alright?" Hermione asked nervously when the silence between them began to stretch, making her uncomfortable to hear her last words ring loudly in her ears.

"Of course," Lucius replied a little distractedly, his gaze having shifted and settled on the far window. "I am fine."

Without thinking, Hermione reached out with her left hand to grasp his, and immediately felt him stiffen. He looked surprised as he turned to stare at her, his eyes wide with questioning.

"But I wonder, Lucius, do you believe in yourself?" Hermione asked with a slight smile, not relinquishing her hold of his hand that remained limp at his side. For a moment, she caught the traces of what seemed to be a real smile as it fluttered across his lips and vanished, giving her the shred of hope she had been looking for. It was her turn to be taken aback when his fingers curled a little around hers, before he slipped his hand out of hers and stepped away, his eyes holding a curious gleam.

"Perhaps…"  
28\. The Passion of Power

"Do you ever feel lonely?" Hermione asked softly as she gazed up at Lucius, still sitting at the kitchen table.

"Lonely?" he repeated with a raised brow as he stood facing her. "I think not."

"But what about your friends or family? Don't you miss them?" Hermione said with a frown creasing her brow as she puzzled over him.

"I am far too preoccupied thinking about myself to miss anyone," Lucius answered haughtily, making Hermione crack a smile at his unbelievable arrogance. He saw her reaction and the corners of his lips curled into a slight smile to match her own, surprising Hermione with the uncharacteristic gesture. The short moment of mutual amiability faded quickly, however, and they were back to being stuck in a somewhat awkward silence.

"It is getting late. We should dine soon. Where is that elf?" Lucius said as he straightened up and glanced around.

"I is here, Master Malfoy," Kreacher croaked as he appeared with a crack, his old and wizened frame doing little to stop him in his enthusiasm to serve a member of an ancient pureblood line.

"We'd like dinner please, Kreacher," Hermione said to the greying house-elf, who promptly bowed and scuttled over to the cooking area to begin vigorously chopping and slicing. Hermione smiled at his fervour as she stood up, only to turn to see Lucius looking at her with an expression of frowning inquisitiveness.

"I cannot understand why you insist on treating an elf as if it were an equal," he drawled in idle musing.

"Well, it seems to be concept that you purebloods just can't grasp," Hermione retorted as she stepped past him to walk over to the other end of the room, annoyed at his casual remark that rubbed against her old campaign for elf rights, which she still supported, even if it had been abandoned early on in its creation. With pursed lips, she lit a fire in the empty grate and tried to ignore Lucius when she caught the soft sound of his cat-like footsteps approach from behind her. She pointed her wand at the black hearth and conjured flames to the logs non-verbally, her eyes narrowed in concentration and in determination to disregard Lucius. However, despite her best efforts, she could not help but see him from the corner of her eye, sitting in a nearby armchair with his legs loosely crossed at the ankles, black slacks hitched up slightly.

The sight of his black brogue-like shoes and his sock-covered ankles was strangely endearing, reminding Hermione of her adoration for smart-looking things ranging from fresh parchment and eagle feather quills, to trim dark suits. She guessed that if there was anything the two of them might have had in common, it would probably have been their appreciation for pristine attire. After several more seconds of trying to steal sly glances at him, Hermione finally gave up and turned to face Lucius, crossing her arms over her chest to keep herself warm.

She waited for him to say something, seeing him fix his steely eyes on her with a look of mild interest. Yet, moments passed and he said nothing, merely flicking his eyes over her face as he surprised her with his silence. Hermione felt self-conscious standing in front of him, her body suddenly feeling awkward in the witches' robes that she had thought herself to have become familiar with. It was unnerving to be the object of scrutiny by his unreadable eyes and she stood frozen, her mind whirring with thoughts and possibilities.

"We purebloods…?" Lucius said at last, sounding calm and thoughtful. Hermione breathed out in relief as the tension was dispersed, surprised but not unhappy that he was still mulling over what she had last said.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it quite like that," Hermione apologised, realising that appearing humble and apologetic was one of the better ways to lessen the arrogance in people like Lucius.

"Then how exactly did you mean it?" Lucius prompted with a slight wave of his hand, his calm tone sounding more welcoming than Hermione had ever expected. She hesitated as she wondered if she was about to walk into a trap, provoking Lucius with her theories. When he made no move to suggest any protest, but continued to wait for her with veiled interest lighting his features, she felt her resistance melting as she was flattered into complying by his attentiveness.

"It's just that… Well… Purebloods seem to have quite strong prejudicial tendencies," Hermione explained, her tone spiked with nervousness as she watched Lucius for a reaction.

"Indeed," Lucius agreed with a wry twist of his lips, eyes flickering over towards the fire before finding Hermione's face again.

"And um… Well, I – I," Hermione stuttered, forgetting what she was going to say. Seeing Lucius' mercury eyes on her made her unduly nervous, and she realised that there was sweat lining her palms while her pulse had increased several times over.

"You were saying?" Lucius hinted lightly, his interest having been piqued by the state of discomfort his attention caused Hermione.

"I – I…" Hermione started again, before a thought struck her and she blurted it out, unable to restrain the pull of curiosity.

"Why do you hate me?" she asked, wondering silently to herself if she was being a bit too direct. Lucius' look changed to one of mild surprise, unable to hide how Hermione's words had caught him out.

"I was not aware I said that," Lucius replied a little stiffly as he recovered from his moment of faltering.

"Well, you didn't say it in words, but I'm not dim."

"I never said you were, Miss Granger."

"It's not exactly subtle, this pureblood prejudice," Hermione continued, ignoring his sharp answers and watching with detached satisfaction as Lucius stiffened ever so slightly. It was a move that she might not have detected once, but now, after being cooped up inside with only him as a companion, she was beginning to notice the finer details about him.

"What are you trying to say, Miss Granger?" Lucius said at last, having decided that this was the only way to be sure of the nature of the girl's question.

"You hate me and you've always hated me. Why?" Hermione asked, sitting down in an armchair opposite him, her gaze fixed on his pale face as his eyes flickered around the room briefly before coming to rest on her.

"One thing you must learn about the purebloods, Miss Granger, is not to take everything to heart," he said carefully.

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

"You sounded ever so hurt at the thought of being hated."

"Well, wouldn't you? It's horrible; being hated by those who never even went to the trouble of getting to know you," Hermione said, allowing her inner feelings to creep into her words. It really was quite saddening for her to be hated without a real reason.

"I would not know; I have little care for those who wish to loathe me," Lucius replied carelessly while Hermione paused to think. Lucius was, in some senses, in the same boat as her, as he was quite a popular number one on many people's hate list. No-one on the Light side had ever liked him or trusted him. She realised that it was hypocritical to call the purebloods' cause a prejudice, but to have invalidated ideas about people like Lucius. She didn't even know what he was like in private or what he thought; hating him just for his acts was like hating the face without knowing the mind.

"But how can you not take it personally? I suffered over nine years of blood discrimination, thanks to your son."

"Like I said, do not take it personally," Lucius replied, settling back in his chair. Hermione was far from satisfied with his answers and felt a prick of annoyance at his constant avoidance of giving her a decent explanation. After a brief moment of contemplation, she left her chair to come and stand at his side, looking down on him as her standing position gave her the advantage in height, effectively making her look superior. However, Lucius didn't seem bothered in the least, and looked up at her with one eyebrow cocked high and an arrogant expression smoothed over his face.

"Anything else I can do for you, Miss Granger?" he asked, and Hermione had to secretly marvel at how he still managed to seem so regal when he was sitting down and looking up at her.

"Please answer my original question," she said quietly, sacrificing the satisfaction gained in appearing dominant for once, and kneeling down by his legs to give a full impression of her seriousness. Lucius gave a small sigh of impatience as he watched her give up the advantage she had held, all to hear a little explanation.

"Why do I hate you, Miss Granger?" he asked to check which question she was referring to. Hermione nodded, steeling herself for what was to come. She was certain that it wouldn't be very pleasant. After all, he had always loathed her and she hardly expected that to have changed after a few weeks in each other's company.

"You must understand that my dislike for you is not personal," Lucius drawled, eyes gazing thoughtfully into the orange flames leaping in the grate. Hermione said nothing, her mind busy on processing his words while her eyes watched Lucius slowly turn to face her, his cold eyes boring into her as he continued.

"I never said I hated you for who you are, Miss Granger, although judging by my son's and Severus' tales of you, I would undoubtedly be trying to keep you as far away as possible if I knew you well."

Hermione didn't quite manage to stop the sour expression appearing on her face as she took his jibe. Too many times, she had been teased about being a 'bookworm' and 'teacher's pet'. Although the light taunting had mainly been in joke-form, it still hurt and irritated Hermione to be overlooked merely for her zeal for education. She also found it difficult to believe that there was nothing personal in the way Lucius had once despised her with particular venom.

"I can see that you are far from believing me," Lucius stated calmly as if he had read the thoughts crossing her mind. "But I shall be very honest with you, Miss Granger, and you would do well to listen seeing as I am not often honest with anyone."

Hermione frowned a little as she took in his words. He was already being honest with her, telling her that he wasn't honest with anyone else much. She studied his face as she waited for him to speak, trying to see what lay beneath his indifferent mask.

"I did not hate for who you were, but for what you were."

"Were?" she asked, puzzled by his use of the past tense.

"Indeed, times have changed, and I know it is no longer wise to express opinions that are…different from those of the Ministry," Lucius explained with careful usage of words.

"But then what about the old you?" Hermione asked, wanting to solve the pureblood mystery that was bugging her to be understood. "How could you hate someone you'd never met? How could you hate someone you didn't even know?"

"Quite easily," Lucius replied serenely as if it were an obvious answer. Hermione stared at him in exasperation; she couldn't grasp his logic in the slightest and she struggled to contemplate how his mind worked.

"It doesn't make any sense," she ended up murmuring as she stood up to walk over to the fireplace, leaning against the mantelpiece and frowning in deep thought before Lucius' voice broke through her vicious swirl of thinking.

"You are taking it all too personally, Miss Granger."

"How can I not when it affects me so much?" she said in a quiet but fierce voice as she turned around to face him. "You wouldn't know what it's like to be branded something that has no meaning! Labelled by those who don't even know a single thing about you!"

"I think you will find that I know that feeling rather well," he replied, a cold contrast in his impassive manner to the fiery-eyed girl before him. Hermione stopped in her flaming thoughts to consider his words. Was this the only honesty she was going to get?

"Tell me," she said as she lowered herself into a neighbouring chair and gazed at him intently. A slight smirk materialised and vanished on his face as he considered her demand, appearing to wonder whether he should make the effort of explaining further. Evidently, he decided there was no harm in telling her more, and Hermione was glad when he began to speak.

"Being misunderstood comes with the job of being the antagonist, Miss Granger," he said eventually while Hermione listened, drawn in by the calming sound of his pensive voice. "No-one pauses to think of the thought and intent behind the actions."

"Well, there's no need to! Killers and torturers hardly hide the fact that they enjoy it!" Hermione said in a hushed, deadly voice, feeling angry at those who had taken away those she loved; Remus, Tonks, Dumbledore, Fred… In fact, even Professor Snape!

"I think you are being a little narrow-minded on that subject," Lucius commented while Hermione stared at him in disbelief. "We are not all like dear Bellatrix," he said, to illuminate his point to her.

"But you're as good as! Killing and torturing innocent people like that!"

"Try opening your mind a little more, Miss Granger, you are not seeing because of your prejudices," Lucius advised her while Hermione's mouth fell open in shock.

"My prejudices?"

"Indeed," Lucius confirmed. "You have a fixed idea on what a Death Eater is."

"Well, you only have yourself to blame because you're the one who publicised the idea!"

"I only acted out something. You are the one who misinterpreted it," Lucius told her, still calm and holding his cool composure.

"What do you mean, 'misinterpreted'?" Hermione demanded in a slightly louder voice, having to consciously rein in the fire within her. "There's nothing to misunderstand about murder, torture and reasonless persecution!"

"Do try and broaden your view, Miss Granger. You are only stopping yourself from understanding if you deny seeing beyond the borders," Lucius drawled patronisingly while Hermione clamped her mouth shut firmly to fume silently.

"I've seen death," she said in a deadly whisper, fists clenched at her sides as she stared at the man sitting before her. "I've seen you Death Eaters killing and torturing and might I add that I've had first-hand experience of it all?"

"So have I, Miss Granger, and I do not think you would ever see me causing such a fuss over it," Lucius told her coldly while Hermione opened her mouth in astonishment at his frankness before abruptly snapping it shut. His cold-bloodedness was enough to send shivers wriggling uncomfortably down her back as she considered all the deeds he had had to commit to become so…heartless.

"You claim to have seen death and felt a wand on your back, Miss Granger. But it is nothing compared to what I have seen and felt."

Hermione glared at him for being so callous, but couldn't suppress the feeling of intrigue she felt at his words. What secrets was he about to spill? She watched Lucius closely, taking in every move and twitch of his facial muscles as he thought about choosing the right words to say.

"You have only experienced one side of the many dimensions in life."

"I only want to experience the one side," Hermione said firmly. "The right side is the only way."

"But who said it was the right side?" Lucius immediately bit in, making her halt in her train of thoughts to think about the question. "Who said that there are only two sides? Right and wrong? Do you believe in it?" Lucius asked, watching her intently to see how she reacted. Hermione struggled to find answers; these were radical queries she had never even dreamed of thinking. She had always firmly believed in the Light; it had to be the only way.

"The Light…" she said quietly, staring down at the floor in deep thought. "It's the only way."

"That is where you are wrong, Miss Granger."

Hermione's head snapped up to glower at the man. She knew that is was not good, but she hated being told she was wrong, and being reprimanded by someone she personally felt to be completely in the wrong only served to make it more of a lie to her.

"I will explain," Lucius said, seeing the obvious refusal on Hermione's part. He stood up and straightened his clothes with automatically moving fingers while he thought out the right words. With his hands behind his back, he began slowly pacing the short stretch of rug before the fireplace, Hermione's eyes always on him. She couldn't find the will to look away, even if she wanted to; it was simply mesmerising to see him turn from an arrogant snob to a thoughtful…philosopher.

"You have not lived enough to know beyond the black and white. You are too young to dare to see beyond what is set out before you."

Hermione watched his graceful movements impulsively, eyes glued to his tall figure as she listened intently. It was almost like being back in class, except this professor was somewhat unorthodox, and full of a different kind of knowledge.

"You are inexperienced; there is no other word for it," Lucius said slowly as he gazed around the room. "Perhaps you will discover in your own time, this truth I will disclose to you," he said as he came to a halt before her, gazing down his nose at her while she felt slightly warm under the collar. She was feeling a familiar excitement; being in the seat of learning always brought tingles of eagerness shooting through her blood.

"Please, tell me," she said in a hushed voice, her brown eyes wide and enchanted by the man before her. In her eyes, Lucius Malfoy was no longer there, but in his stead was a scholar; someone who could teach Hermione more.

"There is no black and white, Miss Granger. Only shades of grey, and hundreds of those, I might add," Lucius said, leaning down slightly so that his face was closer. He glanced over her face before he gazed deeply into her eyes, seeing her tremble slightly under the intensity.

"There is no right or wrong in this world where we live, Miss Granger," Lucius murmured to her, his face now so close that Hermione could only look into his eyes. "You must think beyond the borders that you know."

"How?" Hermione breathed back, her heart beating faster as she watched Lucius hungrily, eager for an answer. The unresolved tension that was brought on by his fascinating words struck deep chords inside her as Lucius' grey eyes flickered over her face with a strange gleam.

"That is for me to know and for you to find out," Lucius said as he straightened up suddenly in one swift movement and gave her a small smirk. "I am not about to share all the secrets of life with you, Miss Granger. I did not live forty-five years and not learn any tricks of the trade," he said, sauntering back over to his chair and sitting down. "It would ruin the novelty of your self-discovery if I were to tell you everything, don't you think?" he said as he settled back into his chair and took to watching the fire.

Hermione sat back in her chair and felt suddenly cold and empty; the warmth of learning had disappeared when Lucius had walked away, and there was only the icy breeze of ignorance biting at her. She glanced over at Lucius who was silent and impassive, as if nothing had happened, and she felt confusion cross her mind. His words were only just beginning to permeate her mind and she realised that strangely, he was possibly speaking the truth. She had been seeing him for what she thought he was, not for who he might actually be. His skill of covering his trail also made it seem like she had dreamt their conversation as he was sitting in exactly the same position as he had been an hour ago.

"Can you explain something to me?" she eventually asked when she couldn't figure out the wriggling mass of questions in her mind. Lucius looked up and gave her a blank look.

"As long as it is strictly within the rules of public discussion, fine," Lucius replied nonchalantly.

"Um…I'll leave you to decide that," Hermione said, uncertain whether he would even want to answer her query. "Can you explain to me about Death Eaters and their motives?" She watched Lucius as he froze to gaze at her imperiously.

"And why do you wish to know?"

"Because I want to understand," Hermione answered truthfully. It was going to be the only way to stop fearing the masked Dark wizards that haunted her dreams.

"I do not know if this subject can be categorised under public discussion," Lucius replied slowly while Hermione felt her heart sink in disappointment. He was the only person she would be able to ask and get true answers from. Testing his patience was worth the risk if it meant that she could get something out of him.

"Might I remind you that we are hardly amongst the public here?" Hermione said in an attempt to get him to change his mind. "In fact, I would call this atmosphere, highly confidential."

"As much as I wish I could say I do, I am sorry to say that I do not trust you enough, Miss Granger," Lucius said, not sounding the least bit sorry. Hermione felt stumped; she really needed him to tell her as the idea of asking him and receiving a good answer wouldn't leave her alone. She knew he would manage to elude her questions if he wanted to, and had to think of something to provoke an answer from him.

"Didn't you ever feel bad, torturing and exploiting people?" she asked quietly, imagining she was throwing herself in the deep end with such a blunt query.

"Why would I feel bad, Miss Granger?" Lucius asked with a raised brow, trying to slip his way out of uncomfortable questions.

"It doesn't make sense!" Hermione exclaimed, gesturing with her hands to exaggerate her point. "How can you do something like that to another person with the knowledge that you know you're hurting them? Ignorance isn't an excuse for someone like you. You're supposed to be clever!"

"I thank you for your praise, Miss Granger, but I do not think I wish to discuss this topic. Some might take it too personally," Lucius sneered at her while Hermione felt frustrated as he evaded her efforts again. Why wouldn't he face the facts? Was it because he was scared of something? She studied him hard as her mind buzzed with thought. Was Dumbledore's theory of unconditional love really the root of everything? The more she contemplated it, the more it seemed to sound reasonable in her mind. Voldemort had been twisted in his soul because he had no-one there for him; Professor Snape had been shunned of true love and had become a sour recluse due to it; Barty Crouch junior had become demented because his father never loved him. The evidence was all too much and she reckoned Lucius was yet another victim of a loveless childhood.

"Did you have a bad life as well?" she asked him, forgetting to mention what she was talking about as she was too caught up in her train of thoughts that was whistling with excitement at her discovery.

"Excuse me?" Lucius asked, somewhat taken aback at her sudden question. Hermione sighed as she realised she had been thinking too fast even for herself and forced herself to slow down.

"All the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself had one thing in common," she told him matter-of-factly while he gazed at her with an expressionless face.

"And what would that be, Miss Granger?" he asked quietly, eyes darkening as if daring her to utter her answer.

"You all had a lack of love in your lives."

There was a short, tense silence that made Hermione lose her confidence and she glanced at Lucius, feeling nervous. His face was giving nothing away, but his eyes were flickering around as he thought hard. His lips had formed a thin line as a small frown crept onto his face.

"Love?" he asked, barely disguising the look of disgust that passed over his face at the word.

"Yes. Love." Hermione repeated quietly, gazing at him intently to take in his reaction. She could see that he obviously had other ideas about her theory, for the familiar looks of disdain and repulsion were spreading across his features.

"Love is for fools," Lucius replied at last in quiet, cold tones. His words were icy, and when he turned to look at Hermione, and there was no sign of being able to love in his hard eyes. "There is nothing to gain from it."

"You only think that because you don't know what it is," she said softly, feeling the languid mood swiftly transform into something much more dangerous as Lucius gave her a resolute look. "You wouldn't be saying that if you had felt love."

"I have no wish to feel it. Why waste my time with such absurdities?" he drawled while Hermione found it irritating to have to stand his denials of truth. Didn't he know that his unknowing of love was obvious?

"I want you to stop being a coward and tell me why you fear love so much!" Hermione demanded in an imploring tone, feeling more anxious for his sake than hers.

"Why I fear love, Miss Granger?" he asked, hiding his confusion with another sneer.

"Yes!" Hermione said, trying to keep as calm as possible.

"I do not fear love. I merely do not believe in it," Lucius replied firmly while Hermione felt her calm threaten to leave her as her logic and reason created uproar in her mind.

"How can you not believe in love?" she cried in exasperation. "Everyone believes in love!"

"If that be the case, then I must be the exception," Lucius replied in deadly tranquil while Hermione leapt out of her chair again to walk over to him.

"Love is everything!" she said as she stood before him, fists clenched as she willed him to believe. "It makes you want to live even in the darkest of times and there's nothing higher than it!"

"Believe it if it makes you happy, Miss Granger," Lucius replied lazily while Hermione fumed. She felt she had to knock some sense into him and dropped to her knees, grabbing hold of one of his hands as she squeezed fiercely.

"Do you feel that?" she hissed at him furiously, squeezing his hand again.

"I would hardly be human if I did not," Lucius replied casually, pulling his hand out of her grip. "It is hard to miss the feeling of having one's circulation cut off."

"If you're human enough to feel that, then why can't you feel love?" she asked, almost pleadingly while Lucius gently pushed her away. She made no move to resist his want of personal space and sat back on her rear, looking up at him.

"Because I simply do not believe in it, Miss Granger. Is that such a hard concept to understand?" he asked with an impatient tone slipping into his voice.

"Yes it is!" Hermione said, crossing her legs and not noticing the fact that she was, once again, sitting below him, looking up at him. "Love is the reason you live! Love lifts you up to the heavens. There is nothing as beautiful as love! It – it makes you soar!"

"And then you come crashing back to the ground and no-one is there to revive you. Do not fool yourself, Miss Granger. Love is an unnecessary factor of mortal life and only lights up the sky for a split second before leaving you in darkness," Lucius replied coldly, looking down at Hermione and speaking with his most superior attitude.

"But that light is everything! Everything!" Hermione said, inching forwards again as if any distance between them was causing her meaning to be lost to Lucius. "You won't remember the dark if you've tasted love!"

"Tell me that when you are sitting in that darkness, Miss Granger. I will be interested to hear your theory then," Lucius said, picking up a folded newspaper in a rack beside him and opening it up to signal that their conversation was over. Hermione silently cursed to herself, but her determination was fuelled on by his rejection.

"Don't you love someone? Your wife? Draco?" she whispered to him, hand instinctively resting on his knee and remaining there, even when she felt him recoil at her touch.

"Kindly get your hand off me, Miss Granger," Lucius said, moving said knee slightly to wake her up. "It is highly inappropriate."

"Is it because I'm a Mudblood?" Hermione asked boldly while Lucius looked surprised.

"It has nothing to do with that," he said slowly, eyeing her warily as her hand left his knee.

"Then why?"

"Your persistence is trying my patience, Miss Granger. I advise you to give up on your forceful preaching. I thought it was more than clear by now that I do not appreciate having my ears bombarded with nonsense," Lucius said, eyes flickering over the black print of the Daily Prophet.

"Just explain it to me. Then I'll leave you alone, I promise," Hermione said, pleading with him to enlighten her. She couldn't believe that he didn't think love was important. Didn't he love his family? What was that they had seen at the end of the Final Battle? The three Malfoys clinging onto each other like limpets on a lost rock. She watched a muscle go in Lucius' jaw as his eyes remained in the same place, telling her he wasn't reading a single word.

"It won't hurt to just tell me, will it?" she asked quietly, allowing him to have his space as she backed away to her own chair and sat down again.

" 'Hurt' would not be the right word."

"Then what would?" Hermione asked, eager to get him to spill his secrets and voice his fears. She wanted him to acknowledge his weaknesses so that he could learn to use them to his advantage. She didn't even know why she was trying to encourage Lucius Malfoy into doing anything, but it was like an instinct within her that could not be quenched.

"Miss Granger, I am about to give you a valuable insight into life," Lucius said with a sigh. "You would do well to learn from it."

Hermione nodded, eyes never leaving his face as she noticed his discomfort at what he was thinking. On a whim, she decided she would applaud him if he gave a satisfying lecture on why he didn't believe in the powers of love.

"Like I said before; there is no black and white," Lucius started while Hermione listened carefully. "Love is nothing but hate in disguise. They are the same thing, respectively."

"But they're not," Hermione interrupted while Lucius gave her a small glare. "They're far from being the same!"

"I hardly call that listening, Miss Granger. If you are not prepared to listen, I do not wish to waste my breath talking to myself," Lucius said sharply, making Hermione shut up and resolutely keep her mouth closed.

"As I was saying, love is but hate in disguise; it is all too easy to mistake one for the other," Lucius said, looking away into the distance as he frowned a little. "A passionate lover, when spurned, can become the most zealous hater and the fine line between them is hard to discern."

Hermione watched him, bewitched by his slow, drawling tone while he spoke as if he had spent his entire existence pondering on the matter.

"Revenge is a hateful act, yet it springs from love. Love is a very twisted thing, Miss Granger. It causes more pain than I care to mention, and I for one have no wish to suffer any more pain than a mortal has to go through in this pitiable life."

"But what about your wife? Surely you love her?" Hermione pressed on, trying not to sound too forceful by keeping her voice quiet and controlled. She wanted to believe that he was human enough to care for his family.

"Do you really think I would be sitting here if I loved my wife?"

"You – you don't love her?" Hermione asked in confusion while Lucius gave a small, mirthless laugh.

"I do not recall my marriage contract saying anything about love," he sneered while Hermione felt a jolt of surprise.

"But – but marriage is all about love!"

"You do know you are far too naïve for your own good, Miss Granger?" he said with a raised brow while his lips twitched slightly in a smirk. "This – this idea of love is terribly overrated and barely an ounce of truth in it at all."

"Well, why would you marry someone if you didn't like them?" Hermione asked, flustered and frustrated.

"Have you ever heard of a marriage of convenience?" Lucius asked her offhandedly while he leaned back in his chair and looked away into the fire.

"Oh…" was all that Hermione could say as she realised what he meant. The older pureblood generation must have been so old-fashioned that they had marriages that were effectively, arranged. She almost felt sorry for Lucius, but then again, realised that it wouldn't have mattered whom he married, seeing as he didn't give the slightest indication of wanting love.

"As you may have realised, these marriages are only carried out to ensure a legitimate heir is born to continue the line," Lucius explained while Hermione nodded dumbly.

"There is no room for love if you want a successful life, Miss Granger. Take it from me; love is a weakness," Lucius said and smiled coldly while Hermione looked at him in horror.

"Doesn't your wife love you, though?" Hermione pressed on, unable to grasp his way of thinking.

"I am lucky; I married someone who shares my views on the matter, and I respect Narcissa greatly for that," Lucius replied carelessly.

"You call that lucky?" Hermione asked in astonishment while Lucius restrained himself from rolling his eyes and instead, fixed her with an impatient look.

"I might even express it as most fortunate. Love is quiet plainly an overused word that has adopted a warped meaning," Lucius told a wide-eyed Hermione.

"But you love Draco, don't you? You abandoned Voldemort so you could save him!"

"I admit; it is my weakness," Lucius confessed, his smooth voice disrupted a fraction by the bitterness in his voice.

"Loving your own son is not a weakness!" Hermione said firmly, determined to get him to realise that love was in fact, the greatest strength anyone could possess.

"Of course it is! I would have been a success if I did not have such a weakness!" he said with a slight snarl, looking as though he were speaking more to himself than to Hermione. She watched him anxiously; horrified to think that he believed his love for his son was a bad thing.

"Professor Snape loved Lily Evans and look what he managed to achieve!" Hermione said to him, hands gripping the arms of her chair in desperation. "He fooled everyone and saved so many lives!"

"Severus was a brilliant wizard, I acknowledge that," Lucius said, folding the newspaper and laying it to the side as he turned thoughtful again. "He was extremely cunning and courageous. No-one knows that better than I do."

Hermione watched as Lucius remembered his old friend and tried to understand the things running through his complex mind.

"But his greatest mistake and ultimate downfall was due to giving his precious love to a woman," Lucius said, a disgusted sneer forming as he said the last word. Hermione was mystified; didn't he like women?

"What's wrong with loving a woman?" Hermione asked, unable to remain silent any longer. Lucius turned around to face her with a grim smile.

"The fact is, Miss Granger, trusting anything that has the ability to talk is a fatal mistake," Lucius sneered.

"So…?" Hermione prompted, not quite understanding how the two threads met.

"So, loving anything that talks is doubly worse," Lucius said with a mirthless smile.

"Well, what are you supposed to love? Chocolate frogs?" Hermione said sarcastically with an undignified snort that made Lucius wrinkle his nose slightly in disdain.

"I see you have not lived enough to know the value of things," Lucius drawled condescendingly while Hermione rolled her eyes. She wasn't in second-year anymore and there was no need for him to treat her like a twelve-year-old.

"Enlighten me," she challenged him, dying to hear what he had to say on the matter. She found it extremely curious that he wouldn't even think about going near a woman with the wrong intentions.

"Power."

The word came off of Lucius' tongue softly and unexpectedly tenderly, sounding sweet to the ear when he spoke it. Hermione looked at him in surprise and saw that his grey eyes were glazing over as he gazed at the wall in front of him. She watched, taken aback as a true smile played around his lips.

"Yes… Power is the most valuable thing, Miss Granger," he said slowly, turning to face her. "With it, you can do anything."

"But it's just not the same as love!" Hermione retorted, trying not to sound like she was whining. Lucius gave her a thin-lipped smile he might have given a petulant, ignorant child.

"They do say the 'power of love', do they not?" he said, waiting for her answer. Hermione bit her lips as she considered his point, annoyed to be losing the debate.

"Yes," she replied tersely.

"It matters not where the power comes from, as long as you have it," he said quietly, picking up his cane that leant against his chair and fingering the cold metal of the serpent-handle. "Power is everything in this world…"

"Power is nothing but corruption in disguise!" Hermione said loudly as she leapt up to stride over to him, breaking the soft reverence that lingered from his last words. Lucius turned to look at her in mild surprise, wakened from his trance as Hermione shattered it with her dark glower.

"Power is empty! It is only there for a tick of time before it rots!" Hermione exclaimed, eager to get her view across and win another believer of love.

"But is love not the same?" Lucius interrupted smoothly, posing the question with his lazy tones. "One spark of brightness and then the world falls into darkness?"

Hermione felt flustered at the truth of his words, but hated to admit it. She really wanted him to go back to being the one in the wrong while she was the right one. It was infuriating to know that he actually spoke sense at times.

"Love and power… Are they not the same thing, Miss Granger?" Lucius said quietly, standing up and walking past her, his robes brushing lightly against her. Hermione turned around so that she could keep an eye on him, waiting for him to state his point.

"My first love and only love has always been power," he said in a murmur, coming to a slow halt in front of the fire, his eyes holding a stormy blaze as a strange smile played on his lips.

"I have tasted power, Miss Granger," he said suddenly as he turned around to face her with a frighteningly genuine smile. "I have tasted it and it was delicious," he said with relish, causing shudders of an unfamiliar emotion to sweep through Hermione as the last word made her curiously warm. Her eyes fluttered as she savoured the sound of the word from his lips. "You can trust me when I tell you that it was the most pleasurable feeling on earth to touch it," Lucius continued to murmur, caressing the words lovingly on his tongue. Hermione found herself enraptured by his changed voice; the way he spoke about power made it seem so…sensual and Hermione couldn't get over how seductive it all sounded. Her sudden pull towards the very thing she had despised was fuelled on by the sheer charisma that Lucius wielded with such unwavering confidence. It was enough to make Hermione sway towards that which had always been forbidden to her and that which she knew to be forbidden.

"Still believe in love, Miss Granger?" he asked quietly as he watched her with only the last traces of his smile lingering, "Power can offer you much more. So much more…"

"But – but…" Hermione tried to make a retort, but was astonished to realise that she was actually speechless on the matter. From the smug look that appeared on Lucius' face, it seemed that he too, had realised the force of his words. Hermione saw him glance into the fire and smirk to the flames, and in that instant, she caught a flashing glimpse of his old self. Lucius Malfoy, the conceited pureblood who wished to crush those of 'impure' blood and gain a high place besides the ultimate figure of power; Voldemort.

"Power has been the only thing that has kept me going," Lucius murmured, still looking into the flames with a distracted look. "Once I had felt it, I knew I had to have it, always. I have no need for love when I have power. I can have everything I want if I try."

Hermione watched him with complete fascination, intrigued to see him so consumed and open in his passion. She had never dreamt that someone as cold and heartless as him could ever harbour such…infatuation for anything. His obsession with power was both ensnaring and repelling to see, his ardour for it making him appear incredible in Hermione's bewitched eyes. There was something stunning about seeing a man so stupendously passionate, and the brilliant spears of ice that danced in Lucius' eyes were captivating, condemning Hermione into watching him as he voiced his fervour with admiration. She could see his lips moving and smiling at points as he spoke, but his words passed over her head without her hearing them, her mind too engrossed in drinking in the contagious zeal in his graceful movements.

"– Is that not so, Miss Granger?"

It took Hermione several long seconds to process his last words, and by the time she had understood what he had said, she had long forgotten what the original thread of conversation might have been.

"Pardon?" she asked, sounding a little breathless even in her own ringing ears. She blushed in embarrassment at her lack of articulacy, but was both surprised and glad when Lucius made no cutting remark about it to her.

"All this talk," he said with a flourish of his hand, "it is enough to make one speechless."

"Erm…Yes, it is," Hermione agreed automatically, head still too full of radical ideas and notions to create anything of further intelligence.

"The elf says that dinner is ready," Lucius told her, his voice sounding more like his usual calm self. "You look like you need something to revive your system."

"Revive?" Hermione asked in confusion as Lucius began to walk over to the table where a delicious meal had been laid out.

"Indeed. You are looking rather pale," he remarked as she caught up with him and walked around to the other side of the table to sit down opposite him.

"Oh…" Hermione said as she touched her own cheeks only to feel heat simmering beneath the surface. If anything, she would have expected herself to be rather red, but perhaps her dazzled senses were misleading her…

"Are you feeling rather…dazed?" Lucius enquired in a deceivingly polite tone as he picked up his knife and fork.

"Yes, you could say that," Hermione admitted as she copied him, shaking her head a little to try and clear her overwhelmed mind.

"That is how I felt when I first encountered power," Lucius remarked lightly before he began to dine in his usual silent fashion. Hermione stopped in the middle of raising her fork to take his words into consideration. It was strange yet comforting to know that she was not the only one who felt the inevitable temptation and conviction of power, and the guilt that had been slowly building up eased off a little as she sighed in relief. Imagining Lucius being similarly overwhelmed was an oddly soothing thought and it made Hermione glad to know that he had at least been susceptible to outer powers once.

This power business… It really was quite an enticement, and Hermione had her doubts about it, but her piqued curiosity convinced her that there couldn't be any harm in finding out a little bit more. Perhaps she could get Lucius to disclose more to her after dinner…


	14. XIV

29\. The Fall of Resistance

The human mind could be a dangerous thing. Hermione was fully aware that people like Malfoy senior possessed a certain cogency that could have their victims spinning in circles for them, and it displeased her to think how easily she had fallen into the trap of words he had spun around her. Death Eaters being anything but pure evil? That had been quite a stretched lie he had told her, but it was not merely his deceitfulness that infuriated her, but the fact that she had been convinced so quickly.

Standing in the middle of the drawing room, Hermione brooded about everything that had passed between them before dinner. Lucius had been habitually silent as he dined, his attitude going so far as to ignoring Hermione, much to her botheration. She had remained unusually quiet, which she was rather proud of, but she now realised that keeping her thoughts locked up inside wasn't such a wonderful thing. Firstly, her own complex thoughts aggravated her when she could give no answers; and secondly, it was difficult to bear the knowledge that she actually cared what Lucius thought of her and her behaviour.

It had always been a part of Hermione's nature to want everyone to like her, and during her school years, most of the student population had given her the respect or affection that pleased her, either because she was such a good example or she was simply the other best friend of the Harry Potter. Of course, people such as Draco had been a far cry from friendliness, but Hermione had been able to brush aside his nastiness as she put it down as him being a Slytherin, whose second nature it was to despise Gryffindors.

Yet being disliked for no logical reason at all had hurt and affected her more than she would care to admit. She knew that Harry had often faced a similar thing while at school, but in a way, his burden had been different. People had hated Harry on the grounds of jealousy, misunderstanding, ignorance… All childish foolishness. She, on the other hand, had and probably still was, hated simply for being a Muggleborn. None of the pure-blood fanatics and Death Eaters actually knew her, but they had known of her and that had apparently been enough reason to hate her.

Lucius was a perfect example; yet in some aspects, he was a strange exception. Earlier on in the evening, he had claimed that he hadn't hated her personally, but Hermione found it hard to understand the difference between hating, and hating personally. All the Death Eater business still made little sense, even though he had explained it briefly to her. It was almost impossible to consider how anyone who engaged in such diabolical acts could simply be…misunderstood. Hermione was someone who tried their best to see the good in everyone, but it was more than challenging to think of Bellatrix Lestrange as anything but malevolent to an immeasurable degree.

Lucius, on the other hand, could almost be seen as a case of how evil could possibly be not so evil… It was all very confusing, to say the least.

Hermione didn't know what to think about the man who had once been imprisoned in Azkaban for trespassing while working for Lord Voldemort. Lucius was certainly…different from what she had ever imagined him to be, and she had to concede that she was indeed prone to expecting the worst of men like him. But then again, who wouldn't? Who in their right minds would willingly have Lucius Malfoy strolling around their house and not expect him to do anything bad?

Hermione found that she was surprisingly accustomed to him already, though it had been only a few weeks since they had technically been enemies. Sometimes, she even forgot that he was a prime example of pure-blood pride, and treated him just like any other wizard. To be fair, she knew that that was how she should treat anyone, regardless of their station or disposition. Yet, it was clear that compassion and empathy were definitely not easy to exercise.

With a weary sigh, she shook her head slightly to rid herself of her constant circle of thoughts and pulled out her wand. She was tired of thinking, thinking, thinking, and wished to distract herself in order to lessen the tension in her mind. Concentrating deeply as she thought of her happiest memory, she pointed her wand forwards and flicked her wrist expertly.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Immediately, dancing strands of silver sprung from her wandtip and fleshed together to form a sparkling, glimmering otter. Hermione watched with approval as her Patronus leapt and swam effortlessly before her in the air, leaving wisps of silver glittering in a trail. The sight of the dancing creature made her smile as she remembered the first time she had learnt to produce a full corporeal Patronus all those years ago. Dumbledore's Army… Those were the days…

She waved her wand about lightly, tracing invisible shapes in the air and watching her otter follow her movements in silent joy. This particular spell had been one of the scarce few that she found difficult, but with nothing pressurising her, she felt relaxed enough to summon up her fondest memory and keep it wavering in her mind. Even as her eyes followed the bounding otter, her mind replayed the most memorable events since her fifth-year at Hogwarts. There had been the exciting, nervous times brought on by the revolution against foul Umbridge; the darkness drawing in around them as at the end of the sixth-year, they had lost Dumbledore, their beacon of hope and guardian of goodness. The last year she, Harry and Ron should have spent at school had instead been used for hunting Horcruxes, and Hermione could still remember the adrenalin rush she had felt when entering the Ministry under disguise achieved by the aid of Polyjuice Potion. It all seemed like a lifetime ago, when they had actually had something to fight for… Some greater goal that they had been striving to reach…

Hermione gave a small yelp of surprise when a large silver shape leapt past her in a blur, and swallowed her little otter up whole, the trail of glimmering light obscuring the form of the new creature for a moment. When the air had settled again, Hermione stared in frozen amazement at the beautiful creature standing proudly in the centre of the room, head held high. The silver snow leopard had fur that looked soft and sleek and moved gently in the air, while its glittering eyes held a hint of mischief in the mercury pupils. With powerful yet elegant movements, it began to slowly approach Hermione, coming to sniff her and pace around her in a circle, its graceful walk captivating her.

Then, just as Hermione reached out a hand to touch the rippling fur on the Patronus's back, it pulled back its lips in a silent snarl and melted away into thin air, leaving Hermione feeling cold and deserted, her bewilderment doing little to soothe her. It was only when she heard quiet footsteps behind her, that she turned and saw Lucius walking through the doorway and going to stand before the fireplace which held a subdued ball of flames in the grate.

Shock washed over her as she considered the possibility that Lucius could produce a Patronus also. She had always thought that the skill was rarely tapped into, as many witches and wizards had found it of little use to them in their daily lives. After all, people had previously always believed that Dementors would stay guarding Azkaban, and spells to drive away the soul-sucking monsters were not included on the normal school syllabus. Still, in some ways, it wasn't so surprising that Lucius could cast such a spell. He was, in spite of everything, a talented wizard, and perhaps had been a bit of a magic fanatic as well…

"You can make a Patronus?" Hermione asked eventually, having regained her voice, and speaking in a quite tone of astonishment.

"Indeed, I can," Lucius answered simply in a laconic manner that held a tinge of pride and smugness.

"But – but I thought that most people don't know how to produce one."

"I am not part of that 'most'," Lucius replied serenely, lifting up his wand-laden hand to study his tool of power with admiration in the flickering firelight.

"When did you learn?" Hermione asked curiously, eyeing him warily as she still had misgivings about being in the same room as him when he was in possession of a wand.

"Once upon a time," he murmured as he turned his wand this way and that, cool grey eyes never leaving its slim length. "I learnt my lesson while in Azkaban."

"But hadn't the Dementors left there by then?" Hermione questioned in a hushed voice, her mind filled with lingering fear of the place where sanity often became lost in madness.

"Dementors never leave," Lucius said quietly, his eyes finally flickering up from the instrument in his long fingers, to look at Hermione in the eye. "They are always present in Azkaban, even if their physical forms are not. They have guarded the place for too long to desert it without leaving a part of themselves behind."

"That's…horrible," Hermione whispered as she imagined the terrible grey tower of horror in her mind's eye.

"And that is the way life is," Lucius added in an emotionless tone, turning away from her to face the fire, his wand still in his hand. Hermione instinctively followed his example and came to stand a little way from him, seeking the warmth of the fire. There was an unquestionable silence as Lucius apparently ignored her and frowned in thought, his face cast with shadows in the dim lighting. Hermione found herself not minding his lack of acknowledgement, however, as she found it fascinating to see someone so deeply immersed in tales of the intricate mind. It was always so refreshing and pleasant for her to find someone who thought beyond what would be served for the next meal or how to deal with some trivial, emotional issue that really wasn't worth the bother of thought.

Lucius was so different from everyone she knew. Having been such close friends with Ron and Harry, she was accustomed to keeping her more elaborate thoughts to herself, as the boys had never been able to comprehend such depths. In some ways, she couldn't blame them and even envied them; neither Harry nor Ron ever seemed to experience any moments of faltering, when they would be lost in what to do with themselves. It was simple for them; life was about giving your best at work and wandering when the lunch bell would ring.

At times, it had infuriated Hermione to be surrounded by people who couldn't understand her fully, but she had learnt to deal with it. However, now that she was facing someone who was capable of understanding her, she was at a loss on what to do.

Lucius had made it quite clear that he had little interest in others, but he had never directly expressed any dislike at conversing with someone who was willing to listen. The scholarly part of Hermione was overjoyed at having the company of someone who could appreciate her entirely, but her sense of reality knew better than to assume that Lucius would be any better than Harry or Ron. After all, why would he want to listen to an intense rambling of a young witch who he really seemed to think little of. The thwarting irony of the situation was enough to make her sigh in tired defeat, and it was only when Lucius turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow, that she realised she had audibly expressed her dissatisfaction.

"Was there something you wished to say?" he asked in his cold politeness, his distracted eyes showing that he had actual little interest in hearing it, should she wish to speak.

"Well, no," Hermione responded as she backed away from the fire to sit down on the couch. "Just…many thoughts."

"I see," Lucius said with a slight incline of his head, his long hair tied back neatly as usual with a ribbon of black velvet.

"I was actually…thinking about Azkaban," Hermione admitted at length, feeling a bit nervous as she sensed Lucius stiffen subtly.

"Is that so?" he encouraged her, simply out of common courtesy. It was clear from the stoniness of his face, that it was a place he would sooner forget, rather than revive in his mind.

"Yes," Hermione pressed on in quiet tones. "It's just that it's such a terrible place. I don't think anyone truly deserves to go there."

"Not even Death Eaters?" Lucius asked with a mild tone of surprise, his interest mildly piqued by her words.

"Well," Hermione deliberated, biting her lower lips slightly, "I desperately wish I could believe that."

"But you cannot," Lucius concluded curtly.

"No! It's just that it's hard…to try to forgive and forget," she said with a somewhat sad expression.

"Only a fool would try such a feat," Lucius murmured quietly, and Hermione thought he might be deliberately talking just loud enough for her to hear, even though his manner showed that he had intended it only for his own ears.

"What's so foolish about compassion?" Hermione asked him with a noticeable edge to her voice. Lucius heaved a considerably staged sigh that he might have given an ignorant child, making Hermione prickle all the more.

"Merely that it is something that requires unduly patience and precious time," Lucius brushed off with an elegant half-shrug that added elusiveness to his reply.

"You mean you don't believe in it, just like the way you don't believe in love," Hermione corrected him, trying to hide the sour expression from appearing on her face.

"On the contrary, I believe in its existence," Lucius said, much to Hermione's surprise. "I simply do not practice it."

"So you don't mind being forgiven or having admiration showered on you, but you don't want to return the favour?" Hermione said in a steadily galled manner.

"You could say so," Lucius answered noncommittally, taking to watching his wand as he gently practiced small twirls of his wrist.

"That's so selfish," Hermione concluded in a huff, irritated not only at his lack of human feelings, but at her vigorous reaction to his obvious baiting. She was no fool, and could tell that he exaggerated his indifference all the more, simply to see how riled up she would get. Still, she found it hard to let the matter go as he was far from being compassionate or loving or even kind.

"I would have thought that my being selfish was quite a well-established fact by now," Lucius drawled to her as he conjured up a beautiful black butterfly that fluttered up towards the ceiling and vanished in a puff of smoke when he pointed his wand at it. Hermione made no reply but silently watched him exhibit his skilled wandwork that seemed abnormally talented and blessed with grace. When neither of them made any move to continue the conversation, Hermione gave it up as a bad job and stood up to wander over to the table pushed up against the far window, eyes raking over the mess of scrolls of parchment and open books.

She sighed as she took in the sight of the disorder and gave a little flick of her wand and watched the objects on the table spring into order with satisfaction. Her fingers rapidly ran up and down the lengths of several now-closed volumes until she found a small, ancient book near the bottom of the pile, the leather of its cover stained and peeling in some places, and smelling of a lifetime of Dumbledore's study. Pulling it out from the pile, she carefully tucked it under her arm while reaching for Spellman's Syllabary with her free hand and gathering up a spare piece of parchment, quill and ink.

Loaded up with writing supplies, she came back to sit on the couch, wanting the warmth of the fire as she resumed a task she had given herself ever since she had first received the precious edition of The Tales of Beedle the Bard from Dumbledore's will. Having experienced quite some enlightenment of knowledge at reading the simple, yet moralistic children's tales, she had decided that she would translate the short stories from the ancient runes it was written in, to the evermore common English. She had already started the self-appointed job, and had completed a draft of the first tale, The Wizard and the Hopping Pot, and was in the midst of doing The Fountain of Fair Fortune.

She didn't bother looking up at Lucius as she settled on the couch, spreading her research materials around her, and quietly began her work, only to be interrupted almost immediately by the sound of Lucius clearing his throat.

"Yes?" Hermione said with a hint of irritation that she always felt whenever disrupted from her educational pursuits.

"The Tales of Beedle the Bard?" Lucius asked in manner of prompting her to explain what she was doing.

"I'm translating it from ancient runes to help pass the time," Hermione disclosed to him a little distractedly, barely glancing up at him as he stood a few feet away, eyeing the book with a darkened expression.

"Oh, really?" he drawled in a more cautious tone as he came to her side with almost undetectable steps. "And which story are you now…translating?" he continued as his tall figure loomed over Hermione, casting a sombre shadow over the book in her hands. Hermione paused to look at him and felt both suspicion and surprise bubble up in her as she contemplated why he would possibly be interested.

"I've just started doing The Fountain of Fair Fortune," Hermione replied warily, her eyes never leaving Lucius' face as she watched for any changes of expression. "It's the one where three witches and a knight get into an enchanted garden and –"

"I know what happens!" Lucius bit in with a slight snarl, his eyes darkened by his apparent dislike. "Did you really think that someone like me, of pure-blood descent would not know the tale?"

"Well, no… I was just going to explain in case you'd…you'd forgotten," Hermione said with her voice going a little weak as she watched him shoulder his burden of silent anger, confused at what was making him so spiteful. She closed the book when she realised his narrowed eyes were staring hard at the page and slowly pushed all the paperwork to the side, making room for him to sit, should he wish to.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked tentatively, her voice sounding much quieter than she intended. For a moment, Lucius didn't reply and she was about to repeat her question, when he lifted his eyes to pierce hers with an intense look.

"That book has brought me more trouble than I ever wished for," he confessed in a bitter tone, a cold smile of irony curving his lips a little. "It is a book of many untruths."

Hermione simply stared at him in confusion; she wasn't sure what he was talking about, as there was nothing to the stories of Beedle the Bard, except what could be expected in any fairytale. She couldn't think of many scenarios where Lucius could possibly have experienced trouble from any of the stories…unless he had been traumatised by the mention of warty cauldrons and bloated, white worms as a child, although she could hardly imagine it. In the end, Hermione decided that it would be quicker and less demanding in effort on her part to simply ask him the cause of his…woes.

"What's so bad about the stories?"

Lucius glanced at her with a ghost of a sneer lingering on his haughty face, giving Hermione the cold reminder of what he had been in the past. However, the expression disappeared and was replaced by one of indifference, although an indifference that was biased with perhaps a spot of disparagement.

"They contain unconventional ideas that should not be drummed into children's minds," he explained sharply, his eyes having hardened in the firelight and his face looking almost…cruel.

"Did you mean pure-blood children, or just any children?" Hermione asked in a voice of suppressed ire, angered by the thought that he still had his prejudices speaking for him. The look Lucius gave her as he caught her eye proved her suspicions; he still seemed to hold onto his beliefs, even if he had rarely ever expressed them of late.

"I am pleased by your show of intelligence, Miss Granger," he drawled patronisingly as a horribly familiar smirk flashed across his face, reminding Hermione all too much of the old Lucius.

"Don't tell me that you still believe that pure-blood trash?" Hermione half growled at him, struggling to keep a hold of the fury building in her.

"Old habits die hard," Lucius countered lightly, his mask slipping between moods, confusing Hermione all the more.

"But surely you've realised by now that feeling hatred against Muggles and Muggleborns is stupid?" Hermione asked in exasperation, her anger transforming into desperation, Lucius' sudden revealing of his state of mind leaving her at a loss. Lucius gave no verbal answer, but merely inclined his head in an elusive manner, making Hermione frown in further bewilderment.

"There's no proof that you're any better than them!" she told him in a louder voice, secretly thrown by the shattered progress he presented after several weeks in her company. She had thought that he had changed… but maybe she had been mistaken.

"Please! You're supposed to be intelligent!" she implored him in a mixture of exasperation and disappointment. "I thought Azkaban had changed you!"

"It did change me," Lucius replied immediately in a low tone, a shadow falling swiftly over his features.

"For the better?" Hermione asked in a hushed voice, hope still rising from her heart.

"It awakened me to…many things," Lucius supplied as a vague answer, a faraway look in his icy eyes.

"Like what?" Hermione prompted him in a soft voice, fascinated once more by the walking paradox he presented.

"Being left with nothing but my thoughts was a torment beyond anything that I have known," Lucius started, still standing beside the couch as he looked out the window. "The intensity of the terrible silence there is deafening, and enough to send one into madness. At times, I could even feel myself balancing on the edge that separates the sane from the crazed. It was a…difficult time."

He paused to draw breath, a memory clouding his face with a look of harshness, and making Hermione drawn in more than ever as he relived the terrible moments he had spent there without further request from her. She could see him struggling with something as the curve of a frown appeared on his brow, and it caused her both pain and a certain excitement to see him so deliberating on the threshold of change.

"All the beliefs I had known…they seemed worthless in that hellhole," he murmured eventually, his eyes glazed over and his form completely still, as if he were made of ice.

"The pain I felt there was beyond anything that I had endured before. It was enough to send me thoroughly mad, and it may very well have, for I cannot bear humiliation, though I have braved death," he spoke in a quiet yet articulate voice, looking as though he had fallen in a trance of sorts. There was a long moment of silence as his last words hung forebodingly in the air, making it easy for Hermione to imagine the sheer terror of Azkaban, a place where one needed nothing but their own thoughts to push them into lunacy. She could almost see the memories flashing past Lucius' eyes as he continued to frown, his face moulded into one of darkness and acrimony. When the ominous silence between them began to stretch, Hermione began to fear for both Lucius and herself, uncertain of what effect his recollections would have on him. With a trembling hand, she timidly reached out and touched his bare hand in a fleeting gesture to bring him back from wherever his mind was.

It was evidently enough to pierce the heightened senses of Lucius' keen perception, for his entire body tensed before he blinked and turned his face to look at Hermione with eyes that hid his emotions far too well.

"I have undergone changes, Miss Granger, but sometimes, the past is too much to change," he spoke as if he was continuing the thread of their last conversational exchange, his voice sounding quiet and calm in a highly-controlled manner.

"When you have been raised as the heir to a pure-blood legacy, you cannot afford to question it, lest your life be crushed."

"But surely you can't still believe –" Hermione began to say, but was swiftly intercepted by Lucius.

"My beliefs are a void subject now. You must understand that while I have experienced certain seeds of doubt and flashes of revelation, I was born into these beliefs you are so against, and therefore, it is ingrained within me. There is no denying the fact that I will always believe them, even a fraction, no matter how many years may pass. After all, it is impossible to transform so many centuries worth of opinions into something new. The pure-blood way does not work like that."

Hermione stared at him in incomprehension, struggling to understand the logic in his words. An evasive part of her could faintly grasp the general notion behind his explanation, but the conscious Hermione floundered in her effort to comprehend. His conflicting words brought only more perplexity as she couldn't understand what his conclusive idea was about Muggles and Muggleborns.

"So people like – like me are…?" she questioned slowly, trying to work out the puzzle of his mind.

"– always thinking too hard," Lucius rapped out promptly, causing Hermione to halt in mid-thought as a small smile escaped past her guard and appeared on her face. There was a miniscule lift on one corner of his mouth and Hermione guessed that had he allowed it to happen, a smile would have come to his face also.

"Fine, I will accept your point about pure-blood prejudice," Hermione sighed in defeat, having found no way around the matter except to simply wait and let Lucius discover and apprehend the truth between the lies.

"Very impressive, Miss Granger. You really should exercise your empathy on more occasions," Lucius drawled with feigned admiration, making Hermione immediately want to revert to sulking again. After toying with and dismissing the idea of hexing him as it was rather childish, she turned back to the work she had been about to start before. As she picked up the old book of Beedle's stories, the pages fell open of their own accord, and Hermione found herself staring at the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, just like she had all those years ago when she had been unknowing of The Tale of the Three Brothers. She smiled wistfully as she reminisced of days long gone, when she and her friends had all been so young and inexperienced, fighting for that which was worth fighting for.

"Do you know of the Deathly Hallows?" she asked without thinking, eyes still on the book.

"The Elder Wand, the Stone of Resurrection and the Invisibility Cloak," Lucius reeled off calmly without hesitation as he stood before the fire, his back turned to Hermione. She looked up in surprise at his answer, and had to once again, realise that Lucius was no ordinary wizard. His intelligence continued to astonish her, and it was bizarre how someone of his intellectual calibre could be so brainwashed into believing pure-blood supremacy.

"How – how do you know about them?" Hermione questioned once her power of speech had fully returned to her. She watched Lucius turn around to face her, his face as detached and indifferent as ever.

"I recall that The Tale of the Three Brothers mentioned such things…The Dark Lord also grew rather careless in his delusional state of mind, and was prone to sharing knowledge with us that he would have normally kept tightly covered. His search for the Elder Wand was far from inconspicuous," Lucius explained in a dismissive way, showing little interest in the matter of the Hallows.

"Oh," Hermione said with relief, glad to know that he wasn't too familiar with the actual existence of the three Hallows, as the idea of Lucius with the Elder Wand didn't seem like a terribly good one, judging by his previous expressing of desiring power.

"I am assuming that the Elder Wand is real, seeing as Potter vanquished the Dark Lord using it," Lucius said in musing tones, making Hermione stiffen in apprehension of his next words, but she breathed again when he continued in his talking.

"Still, I do prefer using my own wand," he drawled as he lifted his wand to his eye-level and examined the light wood closely. "Such perfection," he murmured as he gave it an expert twist and dark red petals burst out in a fragrant shower, falling to the floor with gentle sways and carpeting the rug in a light peppering of rose petals.

"Expecto Patronum!" he said in a powerful yet calm voice, summoning forth the great silver cat from his wandtip and watching it spring silently to the floor with satisfaction on his face. Hermione let her eyes follow the movements of the lithe snow leopard as it prowled and bound around the room to his master's bidding, feeling slightly envious of Lucius' skill in all fields of magic. When the silvery beast vanished with a silent roar, she turned back to see Lucius looking at her with something like expectancy lighting his eyes.

It took Hermione several long seconds for her to understand what he wanted from her. He gestured with his wand-laden hand towards her wand, and with a nervous gulp, Hermione slowly raised it while simultaneously standing up to face him.

"I'm – I'm not very good at the Patronus Charm," she confessed weakly, feeling sweat appear on her palms as she looked up at him. He looked so sure of himself, and she greatly envied him for his confidence and complete concentration. However, his good attributes were probably unlikely to be contagious, and Hermione found herself feeling unduly anxious as he challenged her to rival his magical skills and prove that Muggleborns could achieve just as much as their pure-blood counterparts.

"Miss Granger," he spoke in daring her to accept, his voice deceivingly charming and full of pretentious honesty. "Your magical skills are well renowned, yet I have never beheld them fully with my own eyes. Why not impress me with your wandwork?"

"Um…"

"You know, I can teach you about the Dark Arts," he threw in as another tantalising morsel of bait. "Anything you wish to know…"

Hermione swallowed as she straightened her posture and looked him squarely in the eye.

 

The way she looked at him with such nervousness was enough to make him smile inwardly. Lucius could feel the quiet but constant buzz of baiting increasing in his agitated blood. He had never managed to rid himself of the habit of malevolence, and found it surprisingly exciting to find his new quarry, none other than Hermione Granger. He had been more than admirable in his behaviour towards her so far; after all, he had done nothing to intentionally harm her, and had even put up with her constant mood swings brought on by her lack of control in the emotions department.

He had thought himself to have changed tremendously since the past, but just glimpsing that ridiculous book of Beedle's had been enough to prove that the old Lucius was still clinging to him. What he had told the Granger girl had been true; he still thought of himself as superior to the likes of her, no matter how much he knew it to be wrong. Yet, he did not hate her like he might have once done, and sometimes, he even forgot that she was an incongruous Muggleborn.

He surprised himself by realising that in actuality, he held nothing but calculated fascination for the Granger girl. He could no longer muster natural hate for a Muggleborn like her possessing considerable magical powers, but instead, found himself wondering how such power could have found its way to her. There was no denying the fact that the girl had great potential; her skill combined with her enthusiasm and passion for learning was clearly working for her benefit. It was certainly something that caused an irritating amount of confusion for Lucius as his personality divided and began to grow apart from each other. One part of him still clung on to the idea that pure-bloods were far more worthy of magic than anyone else, and he would always be superior, no matter what the rest of the world thought. He was no fool, however, and he was clearly aware that that part might be simply believing the old prejudice in order to maintain some twisted truth in a bed of lies. His entire life had been sculpted around the pure-blood beliefs and it was difficult to admit that they were nothing but untruths, as it would effectively be like dismissing his very existence.

Amidst the internal struggle that often tore him up inside, there was the new Lucius, who knew better than to blindly follow a principle that had lost its ring of conviction. His stay in Azkaban might have been brief, but it had been enough to give Lucius the taste of his own medicine; his mind had driven him to the ends of the world and back with its unending power of thought.

He had come out of that experience, thoroughly confused and mistrusting of everything, including his old master, whom he had admired and striven to please so eagerly up until then. Now, he could see a little clearer that perhaps the Granger girl wasn't too far off from the truth. He couldn't logically detect anything disadvantageous about her heritage, as she didn't show any sign of being a lesser witch due to her impure blood.

He hadn't even known why he had wanted to see her perform the extent of her magical skills, but as he watched her first attempt at a Patronus Charm falter, a strange urge to make it right overwhelmed him, and he found himself speaking words of advice before he could assess the situation.

When the silver otter had danced into being, her satisfaction had been his as much as hers, and Lucius was tinged by a sense of fulfilment. Even as he watched her direct the Patronus about and practice her control of the wand, he realised that he was feeling envious that his own son did not have the valuable qualities that the Granger girl had. Yes, she was irritatingly emotional and exasperatingly insistent on being compassionate, but she was also clever, able, and eager to learn.

If only Draco had been so keen…

Lucius remembered to give a polite smile of encouragement as the girl turned to beam at him from the after-flush of her success, and it made Lucius wonder whether she realised just who he was or not. At times, she would treat him as if he were a familiar figure, rather than a stranger, and it puzzled him just as much as it pleased him.

His ego had always liked to be flattered, and Granger had managed to do a lot of that recently with her enthusiasm to listen to him, albeit she was unknowing of the consequence of her actions. Lucius analysed his own thoughts and felt a curious mixture of both wistfulness and resentment, desiring all the favourable qualities of Granger for his own son, and resenting the fact that she, the offspring of two Muggles had somehow acquired skills that his own Draco lacked. There was no sense to be had in the equation; it would be logical for those of pure lines to have the most concentrated powers of magic in them, but the existence of people like Hermione Granger proved to be an annoying contradiction to the theory.

He would have to think the matter over more carefully. In the meantime, he would unravel as much as he could of the mystery surrounding Muggleborns. Enticing Granger into learning the Dark Arts would be beneficial for them both. She would realise the expediency of its uses, while he would satisfy both his simmering curiosity and his impulsive urge to guide and mislead her at the same time. He would sate his more fatherly urge to teach Draco by guiding Granger, but he would also be satisfied to find someone who would be able to appreciate the Dark Arts and treat them with the respect that he suspected Draco would have been incapable of doing.

Feeling the thrill of his own plot of many risks, Lucius began his calculating experiment.

"Miss Granger, have you ever heard of the Vindicus spell?"

 

Hermione felt exhausted. Not only had she been pushed to her limits with her wandwork, but she also felt emotionally drained for some reason. One thing had turned to another and before she knew it, she had been handling Dark magic for the first time.

It had been a terrifying, yet awe-inspiring, to feel the power of the magic vibrate through her body and hum down her fingertips. She had never imagined the Dark Arts to be so difficult to learn, and had only managed to control the amount of power she released with each spell due to Lucius' constant guidance. When she had been able to pause in her ongoing fight for control and simply enjoy the feeling of magic pulsing through her veins, she had experienced a moment of great calmness, where she had felt every part of her body living in time with each other, and sensed the beat of her heart, her blood, her soul…

All in all, the sheer power of the experience had drained her of everything, and as she stumbled ungracefully into her bed, she half-heartedly wondered if the Dark Arts were a good or bad influence on her. She hadn't asked Lucius to watch over her tonight, as she didn't feel an ounce of fear in the least, much to her own addled bemusement. He had told her that he would be moving into the bedroom next door to her, as it would be safer for her and more convenient for him, should she need him.

As Hermione wrestled weakly with her clothes and finally managed to trade them for her nightgown, she heard the muffled sound of furniture scraping the floor next door as Lucius undoubtedly arranged the room to his own aesthetic preference. The thought of it was enough to make Hermione crack a tired smile as she rolled into bed, her body feeling strangely fatigued while her heart pulsed in somewhat agitated beats.

It was only a matter of seconds after closing her eyes, that nocturnal visions began to appear in her mind…

 

30\. Losing Control

He was standing on a hill, looking down into a barren, grey land while a storm cast sky arched ominously above him. There was a heavy, pregnant silence hanging thick in the air, and the complete absence of noise made him uneasy and apprehensive. It was an atmosphere that he had felt before, somewhere back in the lost pages of his memory's archive.

Then, the silence was shattered by a single scream of a woman, the stinging high pitch tearing at his ears like claws of damnation, making his soul cower in the deepest recesses of his self, desperate to get away from the cacophonic sound of human distress. 

With unblinking eyes, he surveyed the hill sloping sharply down around his feet, and was confused to see a grey mass of people walking towards him, their shoulders hunched and backs bent as though bearing a great burden. The level of noise had increased, and though he could still hear the terrible scream ringing in the distance like a sinister cry of war, the increasing mumbling of the approaching crowd filled his ears and put tension in his muscles.

There was something horrifying about this horde of people moving towards him; something terrifying about the way the smooth contours of their faces sharpened as they marched up the hill and drew closer, their bodies looking slack and lifeless, yet moving like puppets on strings. He tried to move, but found himself frozen to the spot, bound by the curse of guilt. He wanted to say something, but though his mouth opened to release a sound, his voice had dried up, and his throat felt horribly restricted, as if it were slowly closing in on itself.

His horror increased when the crowd reached the summit of the hill, and he could see the reality of their faces. There were a few whom he half-recognised, and suffered as he did so, while many of them had smooth, blank faces with nothing but a small black hole where a mouth should have been, sucking in the air in rasping breaths.

Like Inferi, they closed in around him, while a dreadful coldness settled into his skin, sinking through his bones and making a burning torture contort in the pits of his stomach. His mouth opened and he gave a silent roar of pain, the haunting faces of the dead drifting closer, closer while the nightmarish clash of unknown voices wailing and grumbling collided with the sound of a long, drawn-out scream that reverberated through his entire being.

The scream seemed to be getting louder…

Lucius jerked awake in his chair by the window, his fingers instinctively searching for his wand as the sharp cold of the night breeze blew through the gap between glass panes and chilled the thin layer of sweat that had formed on his burning forehead.

A silver sickle of a moon smiled down at him from the dark sky, yet it seemed to mock him in his unsettled and agitated state. Despite his addled state of mind, it didn't take long for his fingers to feel the cool stick of wood and pick it off the floor where his wand had fallen. When he straightened up, he felt his vision swirl slightly and he stumbled a little as he stood up, feeling delirious and confused.

His dream had disturbed him beyond measure, and he could still feel the cold fear inching glaringly up his insides as he thought of all those faces, looking at him without eyes. Even as he took a few steps across the dark room, he felt himself swaying dizzily as his deliriousness rippled over him again. A part of him was arguing for him to get a grip of himself and shake off this laughable reaction he was giving to some trivial dream, but even his thinking was disrupted by momentary pangs of fear and pain as both his mind and body recalled memories that evoked such terrible visions.

Through the haze of semi-consciousness, he heard a shriek in the distance, and angrily shook his head, trying to regain control of his body. The sheer helplessness of his situation frustrated him, and the current weakness of his control disgusted him. If only his heart would stop burning…

"No!"

He paused when he heard the clear syllable sound as a muffled shriek from what seemed to be the next room, and concentrating heavily on his movements so he didn't trip, Lucius came to stand by the far wall opposite the window to listen again.

"Draco?" he murmured in confusion as a wave of prickling pain washed over his head. Nothing happened for a moment and the silence of next door helped bring him some peace to gain a slip of control over his mind. He felt a painful aching around his eyes, but his mind had started to clear at last, and after a few more seconds of silent calming, he felt his body to have followed in suit.

Then, there was a thump of something or someone landing on the floor in the next room, and Lucius froze as he heard a female voice cry out a spell.

"Diffindo!"

"What the…" Lucius muttered to himself as his migraine returned in a more violent wave and crushed his logic in a swift crack of pain. Snarling with frustration, he didn't stop to think as he pointed his wand at the wall in front of him and muttered a spell.

 

Hermione shrieked in alarm when the wall beside the head of her bed exploded with a loud crash and she was showered with bits of brick and plaster. She hurriedly threw herself behind the bed and covered her head as larger chunks of debris flew at her, striking her painfully as smoke and dust created a thick cloud. Coughing as she breathed in the dust, she peeked out from under her arm to see a hole the size of a door formed in the wall that separated her room from Lucius', and felt a new chord of fear strike up in her heart as she saw a dark figure standing just beyond the hole.

Hand scrabbling for her wand, she rose swiftly as her fingers found it, gripping it tightly as she raised it to point at the new enemy. Her mind was running wild with theories on who the newcomer was and how they might have gotten past Lucius, as she couldn't think of a reason why he would enter in such a melodramatic fashion. Catching her breath and trying to instil some calmness on her pounding heart, Hermione swallowed before opening her mouth to speak.

"Who – who are you?" she called out to the silhouetted figure, her voice faltering and trembling with fear as the particles of ancient stonework continued to settle around them as the air slowly cleared. Hermione tensed as the figure took a step forwards and entered her room, the tall frame making Hermione assume it was a man. Shaking from her jumping nerves, she licked her dry lips as she soundlessly cast light with her wand, and watched with relief and shock to see a familiar face.

"Lucius?"

"What happened?" he immediately asked as he gazed sharply around the room, his observant eyes sweeping over the tangled sheets on the floor, now covered with a thick layer of dust.

"I might ask the same thing!" Hermione said with a strained laugh, not quite knowing how to handle the sudden change of emotions flashing through her. One moment, she had thought she was about to face death, and the next, she was safe. The rush of relief played with her fraying nerves and pressed her into a skittering bout of hysterics.

"What were you screaming about?" he continued to interrogate her, ignoring her question as he took another few steps and feeling the ache between his eyes spread excruciatingly to his head. Suppressing a groan of pain, he turned to face Hermione and looked at her expectantly.

"Well?" he asked sharply. "What did you see?"

Hermione gulped slightly at the sight of his hardened expression, and it took her a moment to put her thoughts in order and be calm enough to speak without babbling. "Just – just the usual."

"And the knife?" Lucius enquired as he slowly walked around the room, his hand unable to keep from pressing his head in order to try and relieve the pressure raging inside his head.

"I don't think it's here. It's just that the bed sheets tried to strangle me –"

"What?" Lucius interrupted curtly, swiftly turning on his heel to look at her and simultaneously feeling his head whirl.

"The – the bed sheets," Hermione repeated, pointed to the grey-covered white material that lay in a crumpled heap on the floor by the foot of the bed. "I thought I was dreaming it at first, but I woke up and they were wrapped around me and trying to strangle me."

"Merlin…" Lucius half-groaned, much to Hermione's surprise and concern. He sounded like he was in agony, and she caught sight of his hand cradling his forehead as he closed his eyes in an expression of fleeting pain.

"Are you alright?" she asked as she came over to his side, looking up at him and studying him in the light of her wand as she held it up to examine him.

"Put that light out!" he snapped irritably at her and Hermione quickly muttered an apology as she extinguished the light of her wand and waved it in the direction of the bedside table. The single candle perched on top of it lit up instantly, casting a warm golden glow around the room and lighting up the wreckage upsetting the normally orderly state of the chamber. In the light, she noticed that Lucius looked far from well, and his eyes were still closed tightly as he silently bore whatever was causing him such physical distress. Forgetting all about her own raving emotions, Hermione swiftly and silently drew up the nearby chair and gently took hold of his arm and guided him towards it, waiting until he had sat down before she spoke again.

"I'll get Kreacher to fetch something to fix you, shall I?"

"Preferably whisky," Lucius rasped out between his harsh breathing, and Hermione froze to consider his request.

"Are you sure? I mean, you seem like you've got a headache and I don't think alcohol would –"

"Just fetch the damn drink!" Lucius barked in an unarguable tone, and Hermione quickly fled the room, frightened by the sudden change that had come over him. He had never been so openly rude her before, and as she hurried down the stairs, lighting the lamps as she went, she wondered if he was actually ill. Her mind was too busy tossing about various notions as to what was wrong with him to worry about any spirit that might be haunting her, and when she arrived at the kitchen, she didn't bother calling Kreacher, but headed straight for the cupboard above the sink. Yanking open the doors, she rapidly swiped at a glass tumbler and grabbed the bottle of Firewhisky before hesitating, and taking hold of a vial of Anti-Headache potion as well. Gathering it all up securely in her hands and arms, she swiftly made her way back upstairs, almost running in her instinctive desire to help.

When she reached her room, she noticed that Lucius had barely moved a muscle and was sitting with his eyes closed, one hand still supporting his forehead. Without a word, Hermione came to his side and unloaded the goods, the sounds of her movements making Lucius' eyes snap open.

"Do you have it?" he asked in an unusually abrupt tone, trying to hide his pain but not quite succeeding. Wordlessly, Hermione poured him half a glass of Firewhisky and handed it to him. She watched him silently as he quickly accepted it and raised it to his lips, the dark liquid disappearing down his throat just as fast as it had come. Silence reigned over the room as Lucius gestured for more, and Hermione reluctantly poured a smaller measure, glad to see that he was perceptive enough to notice the difference and wrinkle his nose in disdain before downing the drink again. When he silently held out his glass again, Hermione took it from him and set it aside, uncorking the vial of potion and handing it to him in replacement. A flash of annoyance crossed Lucius' face as he realised what had happened, and his steely eyes sought Hermione's with a glimmer of dislike.

"I did not ask for this," he told her coldly, whatever agony he was feeling making him prey to his own vices.

"No, you didn't actually ask for anything, so that considering, I think it fair that you accept what I've been kind enough to fetch for you and restore your health," Hermione retorted in a calm but firm voice, masking her quivering nervousness with feigned stubbornness. Lucius held her gaze for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing with something Hermione half-recalled as perhaps a look of hate, but he turned his face away from her before she could decide. Hermione was about to tell him to drink up, when he surprised her by tipping his head back slightly and taking a mouthful of the potion without her prompting, and when he handed the vial back to her, she took it automatically.

"Leave me," Lucius ordered in a low voice, his eyes staring straight ahead of him. Hermione stood motionlessly beside him for a moment, uncertain whether it was wise to obey that particular command. However, when he turned his head slightly to catch her eye and repeat his words with a little more force implied, Hermione acted quickly enough and vacated the room, taking the bottle of Firewhisky with her and closing the door behind her.

 

Lucius sighed once the door had closed and he was left to his own thoughts. He felt like someone had planted a knife in between his eyes and was currently twisting it most viciously. It didn't help that his mind kept recalling flashes of his disturbing visions and his ears deceived him with snatches of distant cries. He had never experienced such a clear dream before, and never had he had such strong reactions to the images of his mind. The alcohol had helped deaden the pain slightly, but it was the potion that the Granger girl had given him that was helping him slowly to shut out what he did not wish to see.

Granger… She said something about bed sheets… Strangling her… 

Lucius felt his physical pain replaced by that of his irritation as he realised that there was yet another hazard he would have to look out for. He briefly wondered whether he should just remove all the furniture in her room and make her sleep on a pallet, much like a prisoner in Azkaban. At least then, there would be less to worry about, he mused with a stifled snort of dark amusement. A stab of agony, however, made any irony he had been feeling vanish as the power of the potion's properties tried to fight off whatever was making him feel so ill.

Standing up quickly and feeling his body betray a small sign of his complete lack of control, he began to slowly pace the room to distract himself. Seeing the curtains still drawn almost completely across the window, he used both hands to wrench them back and the sudden sharpness of daylight blinded him for several long moments, much to his ire. Forcing back a snarl, he stepped back as he waited for his eyes to adjust again, his fingers seeking familiarity from his wand that he had thoughtlessly placed in the pocket of his trousers. Taking it out, he observed it in the cool grey light of the crisp winter day and felt a swell of satisfaction in knowing that he could do so much with that particular instrument.

"So perfect…" he couldn't help whispering out loud as he silently summoned the power of his magical skill and felt it ripple and flow through his veins, giving him the familiar sense of having a purpose and a goal in life. He had been born to hold a wand and use magic, unlike some…

Mudbloods…

The Granger girl was technically one of those. Her direct ancestry couldn't explain how she had been blessed with the gift of magic, yet his old contempt for her kind had transformed into a reluctant curiosity and disdain, and he couldn't give up his desire to see the extent of her capabilities. He was intelligent enough to grasp the fact that physically, both he and a Muggle shared the same anatomical design, though it made him exasperated to think it. He couldn't and perhaps didn't want to understand how something as lowly as a Muggle could be so…similar in shape and form to wizardkind.

Still, his frustration at having his logic thwarted by higher nature was soothed slightly by the distraction the Granger girl caused. She was odd, to say the least, and certainly very different from what he had expected. Her continued striving to empathise with him perplexed him continually, and he couldn't think of what sort of malady the girl might be suffering to act in such a way. It was more than strange how a girl who had almost faced death by his wand several times and received her fair share of discrimination from his own son, seemed sincerely eager to help him. He realised he had snapped at her and certainly treated her with similar address as a house-elf, but it irked him that she had not complained then of all times, and had catered to his needs without protest. He was sure Narcissa or Draco or anybody else in that circle would have never spared such a thought…

From what Draco had told him, he had supposed the clever Muggleborn was a mere hiccup in nature's will, a mistake and an intrusion to those like himself who belonged in the wizarding world. Yet when he thought of the girl herself, there was little about her, especially what with her new habit of wearing witches' robes, that identified her with her lesser kin. At times, the situation infuriated him because he could find no logical reason to find her of lesser status, beside the common factor of lesser age, but that proved nothing. There were plenty of people in the world who were younger than him, so why would Granger be any different? He was sure there was an answer, and that he would be proved right in the end, but it was getting to that answer that was apparently impossible. All he could think about was how every time Granger needed him to help or protect her, he would do so without second thoughts, much to his later grievance. He supposed Azkaban had changed many things about him, but he would have never expected himself to accept the situation of looking after a Muggleborn with so little protest. It almost brought him shame to know that he was not unhappy with the deal he had made, but then again, why should he be ashamed? His forefathers would be turning in their extravagant tombs to know that he, Lucius Malfoy, was calmly bracing a challenge involving a Muggleborn, but they had never known either the effects of serving a heartless master or the similar harshness of Azkaban. If he wished to survive, Lucius would have to adapt, and that was something he knew he was capable of.

His thoughts drifted from pondering the reactions of his predecessors and he was drawn back to the subject of the bushy-haired girl. Or was it a woman? He couldn't really tell, as he was so accustomed to thinking of her as the schoolgirl Draco would complain about. He supposed she was around twenty now, but that fact often slipped his mind when he worked with her. She was such a mystery… So full of answers that he couldn't reach… Lucius felt like he was balancing on the brink of a new discovery, but he hadn't gathered enough information to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together. However, there was still time in between his research of finding an antidote for the curse to observe Granger and make a decision as to what kind of thing she was. With that assuring thought in mind, he sat back down in the chair and waited for the potion to work its magic.

 

Hermione felt agitated as she practised her spells, trying to concentrate on what she was doing, but forever getting distracted by the thought of the elder Malfoy upstairs. She hoped he hadn't fallen seriously ill, otherwise it was going to be challenging for her as she had no desire to run around the house fetching things for him. It piqued her curiosity to think about how unusual he had behaved, blasting a portion of the wall just to get to her. She half-considered the notion that he might have finally lost his mind after being cooped up with her, but she hurriedly dismissed it as she was sure Lucius could survive several weeks with her, if he had managed Azkaban.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Hermione recited as she pointed her wand at a pile of nearby books and sent them hovering around the room. Practising her non-verbal spells, she made the books transform into a small flock of exotic birds before making them slip into the form of paper aeroplanes and then back to their original shapes. She practised spell after spell and charm after charm, but she couldn't quite get over the fact that something seemed to be missing. She didn't feel the same thrill when she produced a Patronus on her first effort, and though the silver otter was as beautiful and charming as ever, it didn't feel like it was enough.

She tried to think of more incantations that she might have missed out, but she stopped in her tracks when her mind suddenly threw up a glimpse of something. A snake. A large, entrancing silver snake slithered into her mind's view and it took her a moment to recognise where she had seen it before. Of course! Her dreams… they had been different last night, and she was sure the snake had been in it.

Lowering her wand as she focused on remembering as much as she could, she racked her brains for more that she might have dreamt. For several long moments, she couldn't recall anything else and was growing increasingly frustrated by her memory's lack of cooperation, when her thoughts flitted to what Lucius had taught her the night before, something suddenly clicked. As though someone had flipped the switch of her memory recall, she remembered her dream…

She was in some sort of vast cave made of jet black rock, with great thick stalactites hanging down and their sharp points just touching the ground, like tapered pillars in an eerie temple. There was the constant sound of dripping water, and without thinking, Hermione went in search of the source of the water drops, moving like a ghost void of any physical matter to impede her in her gliding movements. She travelled down winding passages with the top of the cavern rising out of sight, feeling oddly disturbed and ill at ease as she heard the water dripping louder, closer. Several blurred moments passed as she weaved around the jutting rocks before she finally entered a huge, cavernous hall that was lit only by the faint trail of light coming from a narrow passageway opposite from whence Hermione had entered.

In the centre of the giant cave, there was a stone dais that looked confusingly familiar to Hermione. As she approached, she could see a large animal lying carelessly across the dais, its head hanging off the edge and the water running down its chin and dripping onto the floor with surreally loud drops. Upon drawing closer, Hermione recognised the animal to be a withered lion, the mane matted in dark clumps while the water she had been searching for looked darker than usual. Staring at the liquid, discovery dawned on her as her eyes traced the thick trail of blood. Blood that was flowing endlessly out of the lion's throat…

She retreated swiftly in disgust, only to hear a low hiss as a giant serpent slid its way around her and approached the dais, its silver scales glittering in the dim light. Watching it with enchanted horror, Hermione saw the snake raise its head and look at her, a small, wilted lily hanging out of its thin mouth. One great eye seemed to fix on her with terrible intensity, the pale grey shade of its orb reminding her of something…

Then the floor fell away beneath her and the walls of the cave flexed frighteningly until it had formed the shape of a large familiar room, faceless people standing silently around her and dressed in black robes. Panic set fire to her nerves, and Hermione tried to run, but her body had refused to move and then she was being tortured again, screaming to the sound of her tormentor's cruel laughter.

"You filthy Mudblood!"

Bellatrix raised her wand again with a terrifying grin stretching her lips, when Hermione felt an overwhelming anger at her injustice surge through her and she pointed her hand at her torturer, finding a wand wrapped in her fingers and speaking without thinking.

"Vindicto!"

Hermione staggered back a few steps as she threw off the power her nightmare had over her. She could still hear Bellatrix scream ringing eerily in her ears, and she shivered as she heard the unpleasant voice screech its agony. Her hands were shaking and her legs felt weak as remnants of her dream lingered in her mind. Despite the fear and shock of the new pattern in her nightly vision, a terribly epiphany pounced on Hermione, and she began to tremble from both excitement and fear at the revelation.

When the door of the drawing room opened behind her, she jumped and whirled around with wand in hand, only to face a mildly surprised Lucius. It took her a moment to take in his healthy appearance, but once she realised that he wasn't a mere phantom, she hurried over to him, adrenalin pumping through her blood as she came to an abrupt halt in front of him.

"I've got it!" she exclaimed in a slightly breathless voice, still feeling shaken from the sheer clarity of her discovery.

"I beg your pardon?" Lucius drawled with a frown, an expression of slight concern flickering over his features.

"I know how to get rid of Bellatrix!" Hermione cried with a burst of hysterical laughter, dropping her wand to grab the sleeve of his rich black robes.

"Miss Granger," Lucius spoke firmly and slowly, "Sit down."

"But I don't think you heard me! I know how to get rid of her!" Hermione assured him in a voice spiced with overzealousness. She couldn't understand why he didn't seem happy to hear the news. She had found out how to get rid of the curse! What more did he want?

"Sit down!" Lucius barked in response, making Hermione stop just as she was about to embark on a lengthy explanation of her epiphany. Seeing that he wasn't going to tolerate any disobedience from her, Hermione slowly backed away and sat down on the couch, her eyes never leaving his face, which had hardened in a cold look of disapproval. Hermione couldn't understand what was wrong with him and watched him with puzzlement as he followed her and came to stand in front of the lit fireplace, turning to face her.

What grey eyes! 

Hermione jolted back further into the couch as she remembered the eyes of the snake in her dream…they had been exactly like the pair that was staring at her now.

"Now, tell me truthfully, have you drunk any of that Firewhisky?" Lucius asked in a low voice, eyeing Hermione with a searching look.

"What?" Hermione laughed out, finding his question ridiculous. "Me? Drink that stuff?"

"Answer me, Miss Granger!" Lucius demanded in a dangerous tone, crushing any further impulse of unexpected dalliance in Hermione.

"No, I haven't drunk any Firewhisky."

"What were you doing just now?" Lucius asked immediately after she had answered, making Hermione feel anxious and falter in giving prompt replies.

"Just – just practising spells…"

"What spells?"

"Charms and transfiguration spells. Oh, and a Patronus Charm," Hermione answered slowly, swallowing with a little difficulty as Lucius' intense gaze never wavered but continued to bore into her with unforgiving coldness.

"Did you do anything related to the Dark Arts?"

"No."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, before changing her mind and deciding that she wanted to share her newly attained knowledge with him. "But I remembered my dream."

"Your dream?" Lucius repeated with a raised brow.

"Yes, it was different from the usual," Hermione confessed quietly, any threads of hysteria that had sprung on her dissolving, and leaving nothing but a hole of insecurity in its place.

"Tell me," Lucius demanded, his body tense as he waited for her to enlighten him. Hermione took a breath to calm her shuddering nerves before she launched into telling him everything she could remember about her dream. She hesitated slightly when she came to explaining the snake, and decided not to mention that its eyes had been the exact of Lucius'. She supposed it was an unnecessary bother and brushed past it without too much detail. It felt strange to be in the position of having Lucius as an audience, as he was far too good at it for Hermione's liking. The power of his silent listening made Hermione unduly nervous, and several times, she stumbled over her own words whenever she had raised her eyes and met with his. By the time she had finished talking, she felt curiously drained of energy and almost as if she had just talked the life out of her.

"So you are saying that you…cursed Bellatrix in your dream?" Lucius asked eventually, his brow creased somewhat in a thoughtful frown.

"Yes, I used the Vindicto spell you taught me yesterday. It did exactly what it's supposed to do and reversed her spell," Hermione confirmed as she twisted her hands in her lap. "I don't know how I managed to get a wand in the dream, but I just found one in my hand."

"And after you had performed the curse, she disappeared?"

"Yes. Well, sort of. She more like screamed horribly and everything faded into black before I woke up with the sheets tightening around me."

"You realise that this may very well be a deception?" Lucius said in his calm manner, his eyes leaving hers to wander over the room distractedly.

"You mean a trap?" Hermione asked, copying him by frowning as she struggled to understand where it was all leading to when she felt like falling asleep.

"Indeed. Something that will snare you into believing that you have found a solution when in actuality, you are getting further from it," Lucius stated thoughtfully as he began to slowly pace before the hearth, drawing Hermione's eyes to follow his movements like he had her hypnotised.

"This…epiphany of yours is worrying. Any inconsistency in your dreams should be treated with caution, as we do not know who or what is controlling them. Whatever visions you saw could have been fabricated and manipulated by something beyond your control. I am sure you recall how the Dark Lord fooled Potter using such methods."

"Do you think it has anything to do with the Dark Arts?" Hermione asked quietly in a frightened voice, wondering how much more damage her little lesson had caused her. Lucius halted in his tracks to look at her, his eyes on her face but not really seeing her.

"Perhaps. People do get affected by their own work in the beginning…"

"But then I've got to – to reverse whatever I learnt! You should…Obliviate me or something!" Hermione babbled in rising panic, hands clutching her robes as though her life depended on it.

"Do not make such alluring offers to me, Miss Granger," Lucius reprimanded sharply. "I might take it rather literally." Hermione stared up at him in fright, hearing the soft note of menace in his smooth tone. He gave her a cold smile that did everything but reassure her, but the cruel gesture faded when he resumed his line of thought.

"You must learn to control your magical power," Lucius continued as he began his slow pacing once more. "You will learn to shut off the power when you do not need it."

"Wait… But how?" Hermione asked in confusion, but Lucius gave no answer and instead, summoned her wand which she had dropped and held it lightly between the fingers of his left hand.

"Stand up," he commanded her, leaving no space for objections. Hermione obliged with reluctance, wary of whatever he might want to try. She accepted when he silently handed over her wand and motioned for her to prepare to cast a spell. Hermione took a few deep breaths as she turned so that her side was facing the couch and raised her wand to the ready stance. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lucius come to stand beside her, his close proximity making her edgy and anxious to succeed in whatever challenge he threw at her.

"Prepare to cast the Imperius curse," Lucius told her quietly, making Hermione jerk upright in horror and turn to look at him.

"But that's an Unforgiveable! I'm not casting that!"

"Quieten down," Lucius chided her with a touch of disdain. "I did not say you were going to cast the curse. Merely imagine that you are about to cast it and gather your magic."

"Gather?" Hermione repeated in confusion. "I don't know how to-"

"Just do it, Miss Granger," Lucius cut in curtly, giving Hermione no choice but to comply. Swallowing with a gulp, she began to consider the forbidden curse even as the righteous part of her screamed in vicious disagreement. Ignoring the niggling voices inside her that were telling her how wrong she was, she focused on simply feeling the magic and casting the curse…

She gasped when she felt surges of magic jolt through her arm and her astonishment broke her intense concentration. She instinctively sought Lucius' face for signs of reassurance, and was both relieved and worried to see him looking on with a hint of approval. He seemed so concerned about how she did, and she found it strange as it all made little sense. Why would Lucius want her to succeed in anything if it didn't benefit him?

"Well? Did you feel anything?" Lucius asked with a trace of impatience in his triumphant voice.

"It – it… I… Yes, I did feel something," Hermione admitted, still reeling with the shock of actually feeling the power of her magic. It was an amazing thing; something she had never experienced before and never thought it possible, but it was filling her with a new sense of excitement.

"Try again, and this time, cast a Patronus," Lucius said, watching her with restrained endorsement.

"But does it work with spells that aren't of Dark nature?" Hermione asked doubtfully, surprised that she would be able to feel the same thing with normal spells.

"It applies to all of magic."

"But why couldn't I feel it before?"

"It lies dormant until its awakening, and then you cannot ignore it once you are aware of it. Now, try again."

Hermione licked her lips as she gathered her concentration again, ignoring the buzzing of her thrilled mind and lifting her wand up again. It took a moment for her to put all her thoughts in order and prepare herself, and when she was ready, she thought of her happiest memory…

"Expecto Patronum!"

A silver light burst out of her wand, but the otter failed to form as her mind was distracted by the sudden thought of her dream, throwing off her complete focus. She blushed in embarrassment as she resumed the casting stance again and prepared to try again, when she froze, her entire body growing rigid as warmth enveloped her wand hand.

"Hold it more like this," Lucius murmured instructively as his right hand lightly covered her own and turned it slightly to a better angle. Hermione remained tense as she felt him lean a little over her, his robes brushing against her back as he placed his left hand on her shoulder and firmly pulled her back a small step so that she was standing with her right foot forwards. Her heart was beating wildly as a new rush of adrenalin flooded her system, heightening the sense of uneasiness that was clenching her muscles and making her heart leap into her mouth. The thinking processes of her mind had frozen in shock, and when Lucius silently went about correcting her posture, she allowed him to do so without being able to make a squeak of protest.

"Now, concentrate on feeling the magic flow down to your fingertips," Lucius drawled calmly as he stepped away from her back, still guiding her hand, but holding with only his fingers. "Once you feel it gather, focus on what you are about to do and do not let anything break your concentration."

Hermione could certainly feel the tingle of magic pulsing down her arm, but she couldn't summon anything to her mind as all her brain cells seemed to have lost the ability to think. Lucius interpreted her hesitancy as mere nerves and released her hand in order to lessen any pressure his presence was creating on her.

"Think of your happiest memory," he reminded her, and as though he had pulled a trigger, an image of her, Ron and Harry laughing in the Gryffindor common room burst into Hermione's suspended mind and she spoke without being aware of what she said.

"Expecto Patronum!"

The silver otter leapt out with grace, swimming joyfully in the air before Hermione and dipping up and down with lithe movements. Hermione watched it, mesmerised, before she turned to Lucius in silence, too surprised to speak.

"Well done, Miss Granger. You are learning much quicker than I expected," Lucius said with an incline of his head, half-amused and half-puzzled by Hermione's apparent loss of speech. He was about to say something more, when they heard the sound of the front door unlocking and opening, and footsteps on the ground floor. Raising his wand a little, Lucius left the room to see who it was, and a moment later, the familiar sound of Harry's voice drifted up the stairs. Hermione could hear the two men talking downstairs and knew that she should go greet her friend, but it took her several seconds to actually act upon that knowledge. As though her brain needed to make up for its lack of activity in the last few minutes, Hermione was bombarded with all sorts of ideas and thoughts of every kind as she descended the stairs.

When she reached the bottom, she was met by Harry who grinned at her before giving her a friendly hug. Hermione returned his greetings distractedly, and missed the slight raising of Lucius' blond brow as he watched her from a short distance away.

"You alright, Hermione? You seem a bit…funny," Harry said as he searched her face for signs of anything, waking Hermione up from her furious buzz of thoughts.

"Fine, fine," she replied in feigned breeziness, giving him her best natural-looking smile. Harry didn't seem completely convinced, but smiled back more for her sake, and his emerald eyes lit up suddenly as he remembered something.

"Let's go to the kitchen. I've got something important to tell you," he said as he led the way towards the kitchen, shedding his travelling cloak on the way. "Oh, and you too, Mr Malfoy."

"Very well," Lucius replied as Hermione glanced back at him, feeling her nerves jump in an unexplainable way at the thought of exposing her back to him again. She didn't want to feel whatever she had felt last time…

Lucius gave her a polite nod of his head as he gestured for her to follow Harry, apparently oblivious to her abnormal behaviour. Hermione hurriedly took up his invitation, but walked quickly, afraid of something that could be called…losing control.

 

31\. Winning Respect

"Earth to Hermione, earth to Hermione, come in over."

"I'm right here, Harry!" Hermione replied impatiently in a flustered manner, glancing up at her friend who was sitting across from her at the long kitchen table.

"Thought I'd just check; you seemed pretty vacant a minute ago," Harry explained in a slightly jokey manner, although the vibrant green eyes behind his glasses showed concern.

"I'm listening, don't worry," Hermione sighed with a vague wave of her hand, trying not to get distracted by the torrent of thoughts swelling up in her mind.

"I'll be quick; I don't want to strain your brain anymore than I have to," Harry said with a chuckle, while Hermione gave him one of her old bossy looks.

"Fine. You have my undivided attention. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like you to tell me whatever's so important," Hermione said, laying her arms on the surface of the table and looking Harry in the eyes. A few feet away to her left, she was very aware of Lucius sitting on the same bench, too far from her to be much of a distraction, but too close for comfort. Harry didn't seem to notice her botheration, and began to voice his plans with seasonal excitement.

"Since Christmas Day is almost next week, me and the Weasleys have been thinking, and we know it would be difficult for you to come over to The Burrow because of…well, you know," he paused, waiting to see if his two listeners understood the slight complication. The answer came like second nature to Hermione; it was obvious the Weasleys wouldn't appreciate a Malfoy on their territory, and Lucius seemed to see the point all too well. Harry gave a nod of satisfaction at finding himself conversing with two highly intelligent people, and went on with a brisker but cheerful air.

"So, anyways, since you can't come to The Burrow, Hermione, we'll all come to you!"

"Here?" Hermione asked, unable to mask her surprise. Technically, she knew the answer to her own question, but it still managed to catch her unaware.

"Of course! Where else?" Harry confirmed jovially, all smiles and happiness. Hermione merely forced a light smile back and tried to think why she found this bit of news so…strange. After all, Grimmauld Place was the former headquarters for the Order and her previous Christmases in the magical world had always been celebrated with her close friends…

"Is that – is that alright with you, Hermione?" Harry checked tentatively, his concern for her odd reaction showing on his face. Hermione immediately snapped out of her reverie long enough to flash a smile back at him in reassurance.

"It will be so great to see everyone," she told him, sincerely meaning her words, though the idea of feeling uneasy about the proposition still bemused her. She should have been feeling wholly glad and perhaps even ecstatic to know that she would be surrounded by the familiar warmth of her friends, but something about it didn't seem quite right. She found herself worrying about something that she couldn't quite place for several long moments…

"You're welcome to return to your family, Mr Malfoy for that time," Harry told Lucius, missing the frown of confusion on Hermione's face. She looked up, however, when Harry spoke and turned to see Lucius give a slight incline of his head as he graciously considered the offer.

"I would certainly accept that offer, Potter, if not for my current…personal situations. I hope it does not ruin your merriment if I remain during your stay?" Lucius drawled with a slight sneer that Hermione recognised as a gesture of his old self, but she could also detect a slight agitation in the flickering of his pale eyes.

"Well, no, no… Not at all," Harry replied with a brave attempt at a polite smile, though Hermione noticed he was both puzzled and slightly defensive against Lucius' arrogant manner.

"Very well, then. If you have nothing more to discuss with me, I would like to excuse myself," Lucius articulated out in his more pretentious demeanour and Hermione watched Harry just give a dismissive nod, feeling the distinct unbridgeable gap between the Boy-Who-Lived and the Man-Who-Sneered. There was silence as Lucius left the room with almost no sound, but Hermione could swear her thoughts were creating a racket in her busy mind. When the kitchen door had quietly clicked shut behind Lucius, Harry's shoulders relaxed and slumped a little while he let out a low breath.

"He's like something out of the eighteenth century," Harry muttered to Hermione, his eyes flickering over to the closed door just to make certain that Lucius was not there. "And it's odd how he doesn't want to go home, don't you think?" he continued, turning back to look questioningly at Hermione.

"I think there're some difficulties with communication in the Malfoy family," Hermione admitted in a quiet voice, her eyes lingering on the door where Lucius had left. She had just realised what had unsettled her so much about a Christmas gathering: Lucius would be there.

"Not a huge surprise from what I've heard," Harry said offhandedly, while Hermione was drawn by the lure of information. Her ignorant state reminded her that she hadn't read the newspaper in several days consecutively and was starved of the affairs of the wizarding world.

"What've you heard?" she prompted him, her attention fully fixing on him this time. Harry appeared slightly taken aback by her sudden interest, but seemed to take it as a positive sign and began to talk.

"Skeeter's been on the loose again and she's got a bit of a whirlwind whipped up in the Ministry," Harry confessed with a sigh.

"Skeeter? I thought she'd been sacked from the Daily Prophet?" Hermione said with a scrunched brow.

"Yeah, but she's now a major reporter for Witches' Weekly," Harry said somewhat gloomily. "Which surprisingly, doesn't help."

"Merlin, I despise that old crow with a vengeance!" Hermione declared in a low and dangerous voice. Just hearing the name of the hellish reporter brought back horrible memories of false scandals and raised the fire within her.

"Anyways, she's noticed that Malfoy Senior hasn't been on the public scene for a while and is getting suspicious," Harry explained with a tired gesture of his hand.

"Nosey hag," Hermione muttered vehemently, the image of a flamboyant Rita Skeeter drifting up to her mind and making her want to grind her teeth in annoyance. What right did that horrible gooseberry have to speculate on wherever Lucius might be?

"Problem is, she's dragging half the wizarding population with her on her quest to find out what he's up to, because most of the witches in the country read that damn magazine and Skeeter's got them all wrapped around her little finger!" Harry said in annoyance, his eyes flashing a mirror of his inner emotions. "She's been bombarding Kingsley with messages and keeps on asking him if he knows where Malfoy is, and shouldn't he keep an eye on him because he's an ex-Death Eater, and what would the rest of the wizarding population think if they knew someone like Malfoy was wandering about at freewill…"

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione exclaimed before she could even think to stop herself. "That evil cow doesn't have any right whatsoever to probe around like that! I wish I'd never let her out of that jar!" Hermione announced, referring to the time when she had cleverly ensnared the sneaky journalist and blackmailed her into leaving Hermione and all her friends alone.

"Tell me about it," Harry said as he nodded in agreement to his friend's words.

"What about Draco… How is he dealing with it all?" Hermione continued, her voice falling softer again as her former chagrin slowly dispersed.

"Keeping his head down as always and refusing to say a word," Harry replied.

"Well, at least he's had some sense knocked into him," Hermione said with a nod of approval. Despite her remaining dislike of the boy who had once bullied her at school, she supposed her lingering hate was merely an attribute of many memories.

"Yeah, Malfoy's been quiet and he's setting a pretty good example of how to look repentant," Harry confirmed as he reached for his travelling cloak that was draped beside him on the bench.

"Are you going?" Hermione asked in surprise as Harry stood up and pulled on his cloak.

"Yeah, I've got to. I'm not really meant to be here, but I had nothing to do for half-an-hour and guessed I'd come catch up with you."

"But we've hardly caught up on anything at all!" Hermione said in mild exasperation while Harry gave her a sympathetic smile. She supposed it was because he knew she was starved of her old company, and Lucius Malfoy wasn't the best of substitutes when it came to conversation.

"Don't worry; I'll pop in later if I can. Otherwise I'll come see you tomorrow. I get off early on Saturdays," Harry said as he walked towards the door, Hermione following him closely, feeling her previous anxiety return at the thought of being left alone again. After deliberating whether she should share any of her concerns with Harry, she decided to take the chance while it still remained.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry answered, turning around to look at her with a worried expression, hearing the unusual hushed tone of her voice.

"I'm – I'm a bit worried."

"About what?"

"About…Mr Malfoy," Hermione said with a sigh while Harry's brows knitted together in a frown.

"Why, what's happened?" he asked in a low voice, an undercurrent of fierce loyalty murmuring in his tone, making Hermione fear he might react badly if she said the wrong thing.

"Oh, nothing's happened," she quickly reassured him before carrying on. "He's just been acting funny today, and I was wondering…if he was… If he was fully…sane?"

Harry stared at her for what seemed like a very long time, his face blank as he considered her words silently. Hermione clenched her hands nervously as she waited for him to say something and prove that he had heard her. She felt foolish now to have said such a thing about Lucius, as it sounded absurd, even to her own ears. Lucius insane? No, he wouldn't let himself.

"Hermione…" Harry said at long last, almost sighing out her name. "I'm not sure what makes you think that, but trust me, Malfoy can't do anything to you because he's held by the Vow."

"I know, I know… It's just that he was behaving strange today…"

"Well, listen; I'll come around later and see for myself, okay? I just need you to not worry because you're safe," Harry assured her, giving her shoulder a quick pat of his hand as he smiled.

"Yes, you're right, Harry," Hermione nodded in agreement. "Maybe it's me who's going mad. I don't think I'm feeling quite right."

"Look after yourself, and I'll see you later."

"Yes, see you later."

Hermione heard the door close after Harry as he left and a moment later, the thud of the front door opening and closing sounded down the hallway. Hermione heaved a sigh as she looked around the empty kitchen, wondering what was wrong with her. She was feeling so antsy about everything, especially anything to do with Lucius.

Lucius…

He had been so…odd that morning. She had never seen him so curt-spoken and quick-tempered before, and his cold behaviour towards her had even gone as far as to wound her, although she didn't wish to admit it. Still, it wasn't his earlier dismissive behaviour that had startled her and made her so nervous. It had been his intense interest in her as she did her spellwork which had unnerved her most. She couldn't understand why he would want her to succeed so much. Learning Occlumency had been different; there had been a purpose and mutual benefit in her successful learning of it, but the Dark Arts? Hermione simply couldn't grasp why he wanted anything more of her, if it didn't apparently profit him.

Wanting time to sort out her tangled train of thoughts, Hermione left the kitchen to wander up the two flights of stairs, all the way up to Sirius' room, wanting a surrounding that gave her a familiar feeling, and his Gryffindor-decked room was perfect for that wish. Something troubled Hermione more than anything else, however, and she couldn't stop thinking about it.

He had touched her hand.

Lucius had seemingly forgotten himself when he had taken hold of her hand and so carefully guided her movements. Hermione could still remember the feeling of her stomach clenching tightly as she felt him stand behind her, his arm aligned with hers, but not quite touching… It had been a terrifying experience, but not because she had been afraid of what he might do. She had been terrified of the reaction his advance caused within her, and the idea of her being anything but revolted was frightening, just as much as it was shocking.

She recalled how the night he had saved her from drowning, she had been delirious and light-headed enough to imagine that there was something she saw in him, but that feeling had disappeared as swiftly as it had come. A mere fancy of a deluded mind.

Now, however, the confusing mesh of feelings she was experiencing were not mere fancies of passing trivialities. It was certainly not what she would call a girly crush, as the idea of that made her feel slightly sick, but it was definitely something. What this something was, Hermione couldn't figure out, and her lack of discovery frustrated her. It was almost as infuriating as the fact that her reaction was not one of disgust or loathing, but of something quite opposite. She wondered if her tired mind was simply playing tricks on her, as she was sure Lucius would have never allowed himself to make any sort of intimation with someone whom he obviously thought to be lesser than him. He isn't allowed to, Hermione thought vigorously in order to try and settle the wave of doubt that was rising within her. He doesn't associate with people of my lineage, and would probably do anything to avoid them.

Then why did she have the feeling that he wasn't being so careful with his avoidance? It made her unduly perplexed as emotions raged wild on every front, blurring the ability for her mind to think clearly. For someone like her who was used to being in control, it felt like she had been disabled. She had of course, felt uncontrollable emotions before, but there had been a logical explanation behind them. This time, however, there was no logical meaning.

Lucius had touched her hand. She had felt her stomach swoop as he did so, and her heart had raced not only in nervousness, but also in…excitement? It was the only explanation she could think of, yet it did little to satisfy her. She couldn't comprehend why his simple move had made her feel such a rush of unwarranted emotions. She was sure she was overreacting; he had probably simply been thinking about Draco or someone, and had touched her hand purely in an act of platonic guidance. Yet Hermione couldn't shake off the feeling that it hadn't just been about that. It didn't make sense that a month ago, she would have felt abhorrence at being in such close proximity with Lucius, but now, she was reacting in a way that completely contradicted her thoughts about herself.

Leaning her weary head against a poster-covered wall, she tried to untangle the knot of confusion nestled in her mind.

 

Typical.

The girl had to make such a fuss over nothing, Lucius thought vehemently as he cleared the remaining rubble in Granger's room and went about filling the gaping doorway of a hole between their two rooms. His wand movements were a little more vicious than necessary, as he brooded over things that he usually considered trivial. He had been a fool that morning; there was no denying it, much to his own vexation. He had been too caught up in his troublesome dream to remember that Granger was still there to witness his behaviour. He felt irritated that he had failed to retain his dignity, and the fact that some mere girl had caught him in his weakness made him furious with himself.

Yes, he had been a fool, but that hadn't been the only occasion that morning in which he had proved himself to be a lot more imprudent than expected. He had gotten carried away, teaching Granger about the Dark Arts. He couldn't remember why he had wanted her to succeed so much, but he had been unable to restrain the impulse, and had dared to take hold of her hand and reposition her, his zeal overwhelming any protests his mind put up. However, Lucius could recall that it was in the very moment that he had been foolish enough to touch her hand, that something terrible had clicked in his mind.

Stopping his extensive wandwork as he gazed unseeingly at the wall he had fixed before him, he reconstructed the feel of her hand beneath his in his mind, and realised that it had been as warm as any hand, as small as any girl's, and as delicate. The terrible knowledge had hit him in that moment, that Granger was a person, not a Muggleborn or something to be seen as inferior in any way besides age.

Lucius fumed at his own idiocy as he realised that he had brought the unpleasant revelation upon himself, and there was very little he could do to change things. In the agony of his realisation, he couldn't help but wish fervently that he would suddenly grow ignorant of what he had just learnt, and forget any ideas that had appeared since then about the Granger girl. However, fate had an irritating habit of going against the wisher's wishes, and Lucius found himself hopelessly lingering on the subject for longer than he liked.

Being an unusually perceptive individual, he had not failed to notice Granger's reaction upon his stupid move, but it did little to ease any misgivings he was nursing. He had felt her hand tremble ever so slightly beneath his as he directed her with purely teaching intention, and could remember hearing her unable to repress a gasp. He should have known better than to continue with such physical directions and immediately severed whatever he might have created, but logic had deserted him then.

He had known it would be dangerous in more ways than one to teach such a brilliant young mind like Granger the powerful Dark Arts, but it had been a risk he had been willing to take. Now, it seemed to him to be a grievous mistake, and he found himself silently deliberating over what he should do. Exhaling a sigh, Lucius rested lightly against the newly rebuilt section of the wall and considered his options.

Granger had reacted in a way he had certainly not expected, and that brought further complications to a matter he had no pleasure whatsoever in thinking about. He thought he could remember her giving the smallest of shivers when he had touched her hand, but it hadn't seemed to have been out of aversion. On the contrary, perhaps it had been out of…Lucius couldn't think what, but it certainly made him extremely uneasy. Enjoying flattery was one thing, but dealing with females was another, and he had never found it a particularly agreeable challenge. He could work and wheedle his way around by using his false niceties and charm, but for all the smiles he had given, he hadn't meant a single one, though not many seemed to care about his sincerity. Almost nobody was concerned with who he might actually be, and only saw the former Death Eater and deceiver in him. Nobody, except that Granger girl…

It was simply infuriating! He shunned those inferior to him, and Granger surely fell into that category, but he could feel something in him that was preventing him from being completely satisfied by his apparent victory over her. He would have hated her, if it had brought him any fulfilment, but he could not bring himself to feel any more content than when his own family were being threatened. Despite his constant attempt to unravel his winding thoughts, Lucius couldn't understand for the life of him, why he was feeling something like…reluctance when it came to dealing with Granger. He wanted to go back to the time when he had truly not cared at all whether she lived or died. Things had been so much simpler back then, when he hadn't needed to try and adjust to living with someone he was used to loathing. It was only now, that he could understand why Granger had wanted to think in black and white; it was a lot easier than thinking in shades of grey.

Feeling ridiculous, Lucius sat himself down in the nearby chair as he tried to straighten out all the facts from fiction. He firstly recognised that he no longer had the option of being completely indifferent to Granger, as he was supposed to be concerned for her welfare more for his own sake, than hers, as there was the confounded Vow to think about. Secondly, he could not afford to hate her, as it would only make his task of protecting her all the more difficult, but he could accept that change without too much fuss. Thirdly, he was willing to acknowledge the fact that he actually wanted to teach her in the ways of magic, as her unique talent cancelled any misgivings he had on her distasteful lineage. The problem came in the fourth consideration; previously, he had been able to treat her like an experiment, something that would play along in his little game. He had taught her things out of his own curiosity to see just how good she was, and up until that morning, he had been thinking of her only as 'the Muggleborn'. However, he was certain that even she had felt the difference in status between them by his daft actions.

It was completely unthinkable for him to consider her as anything more than some insignificant lesser being, yet he couldn't stop thinking of how…human she had felt and how human her reactions had been. He could have imagined her to be any pure-blood in that moment, and none of her actions would have shattered any such pretensions of his. His time served in Azkaban had enabled him to realise that perhaps the pure-blood beliefs were not the way forwards, but he hadn't been able to truly believe that he might in fact, be wrong, until he had met Granger. The way she talked so certainly of the matter had cast seeds of doubt into his mind, much to his ire. Losing control of the situation was something he hated beyond all else, and being undermined by a witch who was half his age and not supposed to be witch according to pure-blood decree made him feel both insulted and humiliated.

Wounded pride had never been something Lucius or any Malfoy had been able to take lightly, and Granger made him angry, just as much as she made him thoughtful. Her existence was a contradiction to everything he knew, but he was not ignorant enough to deny the fact that for all he knew, she might be something to learn from. All her tish-tosh about love being the most important factor of life was certainly nothing but foolish talk, but her endless desire for equality and respect was something that he couldn't suppress his admiration for. He could feel that she had strong willpower and certain ambition, and he could almost see himself in those qualities. The only great difference in regard to merits was that she had the irritatingly staunch determination to stick to the 'good' code of morals, most unlike Lucius.

The great potential he saw in the girl had previously fuelled him on to try and relieve his curiosity regarding her, and he had played his part as a tutor, showing her how to further her skills, but he could no longer continue that game for fear of stumbling onto unfamiliar ground. His realisation that she was actually a witch and not some impure-blooded fraud raised the stakes, and he had realised that he would have to be terribly unwise to toy with her life when he was no longer the one in power. Still, his ultimate desire for power had never quite died, and he found himself yearning for it despite himself. He wanted to be in control of the situation, and be certain of what was going on not only in himself, but in the Granger girl also. What was she thinking? What was she feeling? How did her mind work? His curiosity was yet to be sated, and he knew that he needed to find answers in order to forget her like he wished to.

He needed to gain her trust as he could hardly perform Legilimency on her mind without him being threatened considerably by the conditions of the Unbreakable Vow. Besides, he knew that he would learn more about people like her if she took on the task of describing herself, rather than him simply delving into her mind and trying to read it. He disliked how her unexpected reactions threw him into uncertainty also, and was determined to solve the puzzle once and for all. Though he could barely comprehend anything he had just thought out about Granger, Lucius stood up with the air of a man with a grand purpose in life, and went in search of his object of curiosity, remembering that he would have to make some sort of vague apology about his behaviour that morning brought on by his lack of composure.

He needed some answers.

 

Hermione opened her eyes with several blinks, surprised to find herself having fallen asleep sitting on the floor in Sirius' old bedroom. From around her, moving magical photographs and faded posters winked at her as she rubbed away the sleep from her eyes. She had been thinking so hard over Lucius, that she had presumably knocked herself out from the tiring effort. Turning her head to the side to glance towards the open door, she realised what had made her wake up from her doze.

Lucius stood in the doorway, his tall frame clothed in his usual black robes and looking quite as intimidating as ever. Hermione blinked up at him several times, frowning in confusion as to whether she was dreaming or not, but she was convinced that everything was very real when he took at few regal steps forward and came to stand a short distance away from her. Hermione said nothing, unable to know what to feel or say at the puzzle standing before her. Looking up into his eyes, she could see that he was gazing at her with a certain steeliness, his expression supposedly impassive, but hinting to tension that his tightened jaw gave it away.

"Miss Granger, perhaps you were startled by my rather…unusual behaviour this morning," Lucius suddenly spoke, his voice calm and measured, but sounding as though he was hiding something.

"Um… Yes, I suppose you could say that," Hermione replied in a quiet voice, feeling stilted in both speech and thought for reasons she couldn't configure.

"I merely wish to explain that my mind was in a troubled state at the time of your mishap and therefore, I may have appeared rash," he drawled, his eyes never leaving her face and making Hermione look away in discomfort.

"I see," she almost whispered, accepting his excuse as a way of him apologising. Usually, she would have at least made a demand for him to simply say that he was sorry in common English, but she was in no mood to talk to him in such a manner. In fact, she felt uncomfortable around him, and couldn't bring herself to argue back at him with her old impudence. That part of Hermione had hidden away somewhere and was refusing to make an appearance any time soon, much to Hermione's frustration.

There was a long silence as Hermione sat gazing at the opposite wall, her eyes lingering over a spot that was bereft of any added decoration. She could sense Lucius watching her, but she didn't feel the courage to stare him down in any way, and pretended she didn't notice his interest. It made her nervous to imagine of what he might be thinking, as she was sure he was intelligent enough to pick up on her agitated state. She wasn't sure what he thought of her, but had no particular wish to know, as she felt her ignorance to be a shred of bliss in that moment.

Focusing her attention on the wall opposite, she squinted as she thought she could see some writing near the bottom of the blank space, and glad to have some distraction, she rose to walk over and examine the wall. A rush of adrenalin flooded into her system as she read the words in a casually neat hand that were sketched on the faded silk of the walls.

Hermione Granger – Harry's friend.

"Oh!" Hermione couldn't help exclaiming as the cogs in her brain worked furiously in producing an answer.

"What is it?" Lucius asked from beside her, having crossed the room swiftly and silently, much to Hermione's surprise.

"Er…" she hesitated for a moment, bewildered to see him standing close to her when he had been at the other side of the room only moments ago. Consciously drawing her attention back to the matter at hand, she pointed to what was presumably Sirius' writing, and watched as Lucius' grey eyes flickered quickly over the words and light dawned on him.

"Black must have written this."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, glad that he was quick enough to cotton on without her having to explain. "That picture of me he had must've been when he was trying to get to Harry back in third-year."

"Indeed, I remember that I removed the photograph from here," Lucius affirmed, lightly tapping the empty spot above the writing with one long index finger.

"I knew Sirius had nothing to with this!" Hermione sighed happily as she sat back on her heels, looking at the patch of wall with a small smile of satisfaction. It felt like a weight was being lifted from her heart as the memory of Sirius was levitated back to the golden status it had been at previous to the discovery of the photograph of her younger self.

"It seems that we have once less mystery to solve," Lucius said as he stepped back a little, keeping his distance from her. Hermione stood up as her eyes briefly glanced over all the memories covering the wall before she turned to make her way back across to the door and leave the room, when she stopped to look at Lucius, who was watching her with a concentrated gaze. She was silent as she looked back at him, her mouth having suddenly gone dry and her tongue tied. She felt her heart leap nervously when he spoke unexpectedly.

"You are nervous."

Hermione didn't know how to answer though it had been more of a statement than anything else, and so kept quiet, waiting to see what else he might say.

"Do I frighten you?"

"No," Hermione immediately found herself saying, more out of reflex than anything. Lucius seemed to notice the automation of her answer, but didn't smile or smirk, much to Hermione's confusion.

"Do not be embarrassed to speak the truth."

"I'm not lying," Hermione told him firmly, trying to convince herself also.

"Then why do you blush as though you are guilty?" Lucius asked in his drawling tone, his voice sounding surprisingly sincere in its conveyance of his curiosity.

Hermione felt herself redden involuntarily in reply, wanting to hide her face at his last remark. She half expected him to give a malicious laugh or some other gesture that would show his satisfaction in making her squirm, but Lucius gave no sign of seeking to hurt her. Biting down on her lower lip as she tried to draw some strength to make her spirit fight back, she backed away a few steps when she saw him take slow steps towards her, his eyes meeting hers and looking into her with a searching expression. Feeling her muscles tensing in apprehension, she took a few more blind steps backwards until she felt her back bump into one of the posts at the foot of Sirius' bed, and panic rose within her as she was left with nowhere to go. Lucius did not stop until he was standing directly before her, leaving only inches between them as he peered down into her eyes. Breathing hard like an animal that had been cornered, Hermione clenched her hands in fists as she waited in agonising suspense, uncertain on what he would do.

"So much fear…" Lucius murmured quietly as though he was thinking out loud, making Hermione feel like a creature at the zoo that was being ogled at.

"So little faith…" Lucius continued in a tone of musing, one hand coming up to gently skim Hermione's chin with his cool fingertips. Hermione swallowed with some difficulty as she tried to read his unpredictable thoughts in vain.

"You are so different from anything I know," Lucius admitted quietly as he stared at her with a deep frown. "You are not like the others who are so predictable in their motives. Your will is hidden from me…"

Hermione stiffed as his fingertips passed over her jaw line in feather-like touches, barely touching her skin. He seemed to be considering her with much thought, for his blond brows were creased to form a frown of deep contemplation. In the vast silence between them, she could hear his light breathing coming in regular breaths as he continued to gaze at her as though he could decipher everything about her simply by drinking in the sight of her.

"It should not matter," Lucius murmured quietly as he lightly placed a finger beneath Hermione's chin to tilt her face back slightly, "but I cannot let it go… I wish to know what you are."

Hermione breathed faster and shallower, the electricity in her nerves jumping wildly in terror as she struggled helplessly to find some fight within her. Nothing came however, and she knew that nothing would come. Lucius simply held too much power in his very being and there were no words that Hermione could use to either harm him or distract him from what he wanted.

"Will you not speak to me, Miss Granger?" Lucius asked with one brow rising up. "I have become accustomed to your incessant lectures. This unusual silence of yours…worries me."

"Please…" Hermione managed to whisper out, struggling to speak as though someone had placed a clamp around her throat.

"Yes?" Lucius prompted in a parallel whisper akin to hers, his lips far too close to Hermione's to bring her any comfort. She had the dire urge to lean away, but she couldn't move backwards and she feared tilting her face away from him in case she touched him. She dreaded where this was all leading, as it was turning out far too peculiar and insinuating for her liking…

"Why – why are you doing this?" Hermione breathed out, frightened by the closeness of him and terrified by the butterflies that were beating furiously inside the pit of her stomach.

"Why am I doing what?" Lucius enquired in what seemed to be a genuinely puzzled tone as his fingers played with a stray strand of her hair that had fallen into her face, handling it as though he was feeling hair for the first time. Hermione's breathing hitched at the intimacy of their positions, and couldn't get her mind to think clearly in the midst of her alarm.

"You're – you're too close t-to me."

Lucius drew back slightly with a look of mild surprise, and Hermione was left to flounder in her efforts to work out if it was a genuine expression or not. She felt her heart thumping loudly in her ribcage as she realised that she was not going to die, and concentrated on calming herself, her eyes fixed warily on Lucius. His hand had dropped from her face much to her relief, and he was frowning at her as though he had only just realised something.

"Were you frightened that I might do something…inappropriate?" he asked slowly, his eyes raking over her face with great scrutiny.

"I…" Hermione began before stopping, realising that there was no way she would express just what she had been imagining, as it was not only embarrassing, but simply ridiculous.

"I am…wounded you would doubt my integrity so," Lucius remarked with a slight curve of his lips, confusing Hermione as to whether he was mocking her or not. "My intentions were surprisingly innocent, though you may not believe it of me."

"Why – why should I believe a word of someone who doesn't know themselves?" Hermione asked in a quiet voice, unable to prevent the tremor from sounding as she trembled both inside and out. Lucius gave her a strangely real smile as he gazed down at her, still standing close enough to put her at unease.

"I am not asking you to believe me; I have no need to make such a request," Lucius stated clearly, a hint of a smirk flickering across his face. "I think you already insisted that you would believe in me without question."

Damn! How he managed to always use her own words against her, Hermione didn't know, but she could tell from the coldness now visible in his eyes, that he knew he had won. Hands balled in fists, she thought about what she should say, trying to think ahead and use words that could not be so cruelly twisted back on her.

"I am merely fascinated by you," he said condescendingly when she gave him no answer. "I must have forgotten myself in my curiosity… You are a terribly interesting object, Miss Granger."

"I'm not an object," Hermione ground out through gritted teeth, offended and hurt to be seen as something that was even less than a human being.

"Prove it," he challenged simply, staring at her with open intrigue. A rush of fire was released within Hermione as her anger was evoked, and without being able to calmly make an answer, she grabbed his right hand and almost slammed it over her heart which was beating furiously against its cage.

"I have a heart! I'm a living being!" she hissed at him, keeping his hand in place with both of hers and meeting his cool eyes with a fierce glare. For a moment, she thought she saw him consider her declaration with sincerity, but that notion vanished when he gave a slight grimace and firmly pulled his hand away from her, shaking it slightly in the air as though to be rid of her touches.

"I expected better from you, Miss Granger. Possessing a living heart is not enough to prove you are what you think you are. The Dark Lord had a beating heart, but I think neither you nor I would call him a human being," Lucius drawled at length, eyeing her with a cold gleam lighting his eyes.

"What proof do you want?" Hermione asked in exasperation, throwing up at hand in frustration out of habit, only to have her wrist caught suddenly by Lucius' swift fingers. She couldn't contain the gasp at his lightning move and made to pull away, but his iron grip was merciless and kept hold of her firmly, if not painfully.

"Everything…anything," Lucius murmured as he drew closer, holding her wrist up and pressing her own arm against her. "I can see your fear, your pain, your helplessness…but I never thought I would see this."

"See what?" Hermione asked in alarm, trying to force him back by pushing with her captured arm.

"Your full vulnerability," Lucius replied, hardly needing to make any effort to keep her trapped where he wanted her, under his scrutinising eye. Hermione stopped her struggling to look at him in confusion; she wasn't sure what he was talking about and she wasn't sure if she wanted to know.

"You are so very susceptible," he remarked as he looked at her carefully, much to Hermione's discomfort. "So honest and almost sickeningly naïve… I can see why Bellatrix had no trouble breaking you."

"She did not break me!" Hermione spoke in a low, fierce voice while Lucius merely looked at her with the kind of surprise one showed when an amiable creature unexpectedly bared its teeth.

"There is no shame in accepting humiliation, Miss Granger," he drawled in a somewhat patronising voice, heightening Hermione's rising frustration and making her insides roar like a cornered lion.

"You're one to talk! You can't accept anything, let alone humiliation!" she snarled as she attempted to push him back without any success. For a moment, Lucius said nothing and merely held her back as she pushed against him, missing the thoughtful expression that rippled across his features. Hermione froze however, when she heard his next words that reached her ears in a voice that was far more…human that she had ever heard him to be.

"I have accepted humiliation. I have accepted you."

The silence seemed to be impossibly loud against Hermione's ears as everything around her slowed down as she felt herself freefalling through unfamiliar thoughts. She was aware of nothing but the heavy beat of her relentless heart pounding within its confines, and the quivering rush of tingling that rippled over her nerves. For a moment, she could hear nothing but her laboured breathing and the light pattern of inhaling and exhaling of the perplexing mystery standing before her, his eyes burning holes into her as her world started to shatter.

Everything he had said had held a measure of truth, and those truths seemed to go against her and against everything Hermione had ever known. No one had challenged her to think with such controversy, and she realised why the Lovegoods had thought of her as narrow-minded. For all her fight against Lucius' different ideas, Hermione wasn't sure if she was right anymore. Everything seemed to be suspended in the air; nothing set in stone. She had thought herself able to overcome the enmity between herself and Lucius, but in actuality, she would never have managed, if he hadn't accepted.

"Does that put some perspective into your life, Miss Granger?" Lucius asked quietly, his voice a hushed murmur most unlike his usual self. "You are not the only one who is inquisitive," he said as he slowly released his hold on her wrist and lowered his hand. "You are not the only one who is lost."

Lost?

Hermione wasn't sure what he meant by that, but couldn't find the words to express her confusion. Looking up into Lucius' eyes, she met his intense gaze with a shudder, feeling her previously hidden uncertainty crash against her shoulders. A terrible feeling of insecurity washed over her, and like a hole that tore and stretched inside her, the logic that held up her world began to fall apart and crumble.

"You are confused," Lucius commented with a certain detachment as he watched her. "Perhaps it is too much for you to understand…"

"What are you saying?" Hermione asked in a dry whisper as she searched his face in desperation for answers. "You said you still believe in your old prejudice and you treat me as though I am still that same kind of being to you, but now… I don't understand what you're trying to say at all…"

"In a rare moment of honesty, I admit that neither do I," Lucius drawled musingly, his eyes lingering on hers.

"I – I don't know who you are or what you are," Hermione confessed with a frown, unable to comprehend which part of Lucius was truly Lucius and which part was a mere act.

"Likewise," he answered softly, looking as though he would continue, but closing his mouth as he discarded the plan. Hermione considered him closely, wondering what they were talking about and at a loss to reply. Too many things had happened in too short a time, and the drastic turn in conversation had led her quick-mind to be thrown off track unlike any other time. In the beginning, she had been frightened that he would use his physical power over her to do things that made her queasy to think about, but her fear had turned into something quite different when he had planted so many seeds of doubt into her mind. She had never before experienced such a feeling of utter bemusement like she was feeling now. Never before had she doubted herself to such an extent that she was feeling lost… However, now that Lucius had beat past her wall of defence and incorrigible logic, she could feel every certainty seemingly full of faults, and every truth tarnished with a lie. It was simply excruciating to think about…

"What are you thinking?" Lucius enquired in a low pitch and Hermione barely twitched as his newly softened voice interrupted her raging thoughts.

"Everything is… I don't know… I don't know what's going on," Hermione breathed in response, her confusion clouding her mind's clarity. "It doesn't make sense…"

"Then we have some understanding of each other," Lucius stated solemnly as he stepped away properly, watching her for several more seconds before he left the room with quiet steps, an air of closure and uncharacteristic resignation about him. Hermione stared after him, feeling cold and deserted more than ever. His final words echoed chillingly in her head, but she couldn't quite make sense of it. Quelling the rebellion of emotions within her, she calmly thought about everything that had passed between them in the last half-hour and searched her mind for a conclusion or explanation.

The revelation struck her in one horrible icy moment.

The doubt she was feeling was most likely the same Lucius had felt whilst in Azkaban. The fear of losing what she thought of as her world had been felt by Lucius as he lost his, and the anguish she felt at being so lost was shared by him. It was seemingly impossible, yet it was possible with them. They were so different; two opposite poles, but with something so strangely similar about them drawing them together. Their mutual curiosity stared back at them as though they were gazing into a mirror, trying to understand the reflection glimmering before their searching eyes.

With a mixture of horror and annoyance, Hermione realised that Lucius had just won her respect.


	15. XV

32\. The Breaking of Silence

 

Winter had truly settled over the city, painting the windows with frost and icing over every inch of the roads. The square at Grimmauld Place looked as barren as ever and the branches of the trees hung limp and leafless in a morose demeanour. The cold wind that whistled its lonely tune outside often found ways of blowing through supposedly invisible gaps in the house and kept the rooms chilly, despite the occupants' best efforts to ward off the ill weather.

The drawing room had proved to be the warmest place in the house, and most days found both Lucius and Hermione spending their time there, careful not to pay too much attention to the other, but keeping from ignoring each other completely, as that would have been too impolite. With the newfound shift of balance between the two of them, Hermione was reluctant to say much as she still felt it to be unfamiliar ground. She guessed that Lucius felt the same, for he made little or perhaps even less effort to engage her in conversation or any other interaction.

Sitting at the table by the window in the drawing room, Hermione idly wondered if he regretted anything that had passed between them recently. Several books lay open before her on the mahogany desk and rolls of parchment both filled and blank covered most of the wood's surface, but Hermione hadn't written a single word for the last half-hour. Her mind had been too distracted to continue her project of translating The Tales of Beedle the Bard and had instead, been stealing glances at Lucius who was poring over several large tomes in his favourite armchair by the fire.

It was oddly soothing to see him so oblivious to all else except for the text he was studying. Hermione hadn't seen anyone look so absorbed in a book before, and it reminded her that she still had a lot of the world to see. It seemed ridiculous, but she couldn't help thinking that sometimes, certain things about Lucius made him seem quite…familiar. For instance, she didn't know anyone else who could recall the contents of Hogwarts: A History or had actually read The Moste Potente Potions rather than simply looking at it. However, over the last few days, Lucius had mentioned things in passing that convinced her he had had to have read the mentioned books in order to know them, and it gave Hermione solace to know that she wasn't the only human who had ever bothered reading the books.

Forgetting about the quill dripping ink as she held it absent-mindedly in her hand, Hermione turned her full attention to the wizard and found herself wondering what he had been like in his youth. It was a curious thought; somehow, she couldn't imagine Lucius to have been a noisy, arrogant brat like Draco had been. On second thoughts, she was could have almost sworn on her life that he had been arrogant, but Lucius struck as too intelligent to have been quite as ignorant as his son. The physical semblance between father and son was remarkably alike, but it wasn't hard to tell that they were different by nature.

Hermione silently compared Draco and Lucius' characters, only to find that though she could fathom Draco without much difficulty, she couldn't work out the truth about the senior figure. Despite showing a slightly more respectful attitude towards her, Lucius hadn't thought to alter anything else about himself, and went about with his usual self-absorbance. The one good change that had come with their mutual realisation of newfound respect was that he didn't seem to bother donning his mask of mockery and scorn, but Hermione wasn't sure if that improvement was enough to convince her that he was any better.

Mealtimes had proved to be as silent as ever, neither of them wishing to break the silence that preceded over them like an uneasy truce, on the verge of breaking any moment, but never quite reaching that moment. Hermione had spent the vast majority of eating time learning how to behave particularly refined at the table, wordlessly copying Lucius in his small, graceful movements as he dined in what Hermione guessed was feigned ignorance of her activities. Though she would have a hard time admitting it, Hermione supposed she was willing to pick up Lucius' table manners, if it meant furthering her sense of being a little more elegant than what she had originally been. She wasn't sure if her newly-discovered desire to polish her conduct had been born out of her natural will, or the undeniable influence of such a rigidly perfect pure-blood like Lucius, but either way, it seemed to be a good thing for her.

If she had to confess, she would say that though pure-bloods were useless at being humanistic and humble, they definitely had a cultivated manner that Hermione envied no end. Needing an example of ladylike behaviour, her mind immediately selected Narcissa as the perfect candidate, and Hermione felt a slight twist of her heart as she thought of the woman with a mixture of envy and dislike. While Narcissa was annoyingly snobby and haughty, she was obviously terribly well-mannered and subtle, making it easy for Hermione to envision her as the ideal hostess, pure-blood daughter, wife, and… Well, maybe not a perfect mother, but at least she loved her son and did what she could for Draco…

To add to the prickling irritation Hermione was feeling towards the other woman, she bitterly thought about how beautiful Narcissa was. How perfect and faultless her physical attributes were, not to mention her fortunate position in life. Hermione could almost feel herself to be choking on the apparent perfection of Mrs Malfoy, but decided otherwise when her thoughts had strayed to doubting her staunch theory of brains over beauty. That theory was all the Hermione could hang on to when the material world decided to taunt her. It frustrated her to think that the priceless value of intelligence was lost on most of the human population; most preferred to simply see whatever was before their eyes before judging.

Breathing out deeply, Hermione drew in her emotions that had threatened to go riot as she realised that it was silly to get worked up over nothing. Well, was it nothing? After all, it would be so wonderful to be beautiful… No, it was definitely silly. But still… I just wish I could be that perfect… Brains over beauty; brains over beauty! I wish that was true, but I don't think anyone else thinks so…

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione jerked a little in her seat and looked around for the owner of the voice, momentarily startled by the interruption in the silence. After a few seconds, her eyes settled nervously on Lucius and saw that he was looking at her impatiently, and Hermione had to wonder how many times he might have called her name before she heard him.

"Um – yes?" she answered hesitantly, her voice having changed a lot over the past few days. She no longer felt that anything beyond soft-spoken was very ladylike and spent a great deal of concentration on ensuring that she appeared as suitably demure as her fiery temperament allowed.

"How much do you know about Horcruxes?"

His question caught her unaware, and Hermione had to stop and think for a moment before being able to answer properly.

"Only that they are terrible things to create as you need to essentially tear your soul in two or more pieces to make them."

"Are you aware how they are created?" Lucius asked in a neutral tone that made it hard for Hermione to decide if he knew the answer or not.

"Yes," she answered quietly, barely suppressing a shudder at the thought. "You tear the soul apart by committing murder."

"Precisely," Lucius remarked as he glanced away from her to look back at the ancient book that lay open in his lap. "What else do you know about Horcruxes?"

"Um… Voldemort made seven of them and some of them weren't inanimate objects. Harry for instance was one, and so was that horrid snake of his."

"Nagini," Lucius said in light correction while Hermione did nothing but nod at his contribution.

"They are difficult to make because the creator has to be able to kill without remorse and consciously want and control the placement of their fractured piece of soul," Hermione recited fluently, recalling the lines she had read from the terrible book that Dumbledore had kept safe in his study.

"Exactly," Lucius drawled in agreement, much to Hermione's satisfaction. "The Dark Lord created many Horcruxes in secret, but I am led to wonder whether he shared this secret with any of his…closer followers."

Hermione detected a hint of resentment in Lucius' tone and she sympathised for him, knowing that he had obviously been accustomed to holding a lot of power as a Death Eater, but had been demoted after his failure in capturing the Prophecy at the Department of Mysteries. She supposed he had been jealous and resentful at whoever had replaced him as Voldemort's Number One acolyte, most likely to have been Bellatrix…

Hermione barely contained a gasp as the realisation hit her, her mind shifting up several gears as ideas flooded in left, right and centre…

"You don't think Bellatrix knew about it, do you?" she asked in a slightly breathless voice as she sat up straighter to stare at Lucius in alarm.

"Possibly," Lucius said with a bitter twist of his lips as he turned his face away from her and looked towards the fire as he thought. Feeling a rush of nervous excitement, Hermione left her chair and hurried swiftly to his side, causing him to look up at her in mild surprise. Ignoring him, Hermione knelt down by the side of his armchair, resting her elbows on the armrest as she peered at the book open in his lap.

"The Horcruxe is a moste evil and terrible invention that be known to wizardkinde. It is conceived from the bane of human vice and created in misery of the minde. Those who are of rapid wit will not attempte something so destructif. For, tearing aparte the human soul is as unforgivable as the act from which the sin is derived."

"It's so horrible," Hermione couldn't help comment out loud in a hushed voice of muted fear. "I can't imagine how Voldemort managed to create seven Horcruxes," she said with a shiver.

"It is very simple for those who have – ah – 'misery of the mind'," Lucius replied, making Hermione straighten up in her kneeling position and meet his eyes with the defiance and respect an intellect of equal measure could afford.

"That's not a good enough reason to do it though," Hermione countered while Lucius glanced down at the thick lettering of the old book.

"Apparently, it was," he murmured as he carefully turned a page. Knowing that they would be going nowhere positive if she pursued the course of arguing with him, Hermione decided to change the subject back to the original topic.

"Coming back to Bellatrix," she said while noticing Lucius grimace at the sound of the name, "is there a chance that she would have known about Horcruxes and – and how to make them?"

"Bellatrix was an individual who was unfortunately for the rest of us, blessed with exceptional magical talent, but was sadly lacking of human conscience," Lucius explained dryly while Hermione had to remember to keep her mouth shut in order to not voice the retort she had immediately thought of at his words. It wasn't like he had much of a human conscience.

"She was, admittedly, a favourite with the Dark Lord and I have no doubt that she received his personal tuition in the subject of the Dark Arts."

An uncanny thought occurred to Hermione as Lucius spoke, and images of him teaching her several spells categorised as basic Dark Arts flashed through her mind. It was unnerving to think of her and Lucius echoing what had once happened between Voldemort and his fanatical disciple. Shaking off the horrible hunch she was feeling, she focused on the present and the matter at hand.

"Do you think Bellatrix made a Horcrux?" Hermione asked flatly, while Lucius simply stared her in the eye for several seconds as he considered the question.

"If she did, she clearly did not make it out of what she did to you," he ventured at last, his tone having turned thoughtful. "There is the possibility that she left a portion of herself within you–" Hermione recoiled at the thought "–though I suspect that to be untrue."

"If she was to make a Horcrux, what would she use to house it?" Hermione enquired, feeling a tingle of electric excitement agitate her nerves and send her memory back to the times when she had been hunting Horcruxes with the boys.

"A family heirloom perhaps," Lucius considered out loud, his fingers absent-mindedly fiddling with the edge of the book's thick page. "or even…the knife."

Hermione started at the mention of the silver knife that had haunted her and had her do harm to the ones she loved. Now that he had mentioned it, Hermione's mind began to do some quick thinking, and it ejected an answer from her mental cogs within moments.

"Dobby," Hermione said quietly, much to Lucius' surprise.

"Dobby? The elf?"

"Yes," Hermione conceded with a brief nod of her head as she thought about the matter carefully. "Bellatrix killed Dobby with that knife just as he Disapparated us from the – well, your manor," Hermione explained swiftly, only faltering as she realised that the memory of that night wasn't favourable for either her nor Lucius.

"Of course," Lucius agreed, stiffening at the mention of the event. "My wife did mention something of the sort."

"What do you mean? You were there!" Hermione said in confusion before she suddenly remembered Harry throwing a Stunning spell which had hit Lucius and knocked him out clean. The dawning of the memory must have appeared on her face, for Lucius seemed to see the expression and interpret it with a grim look.

"I think we are both aware of what happened that night," he said in the effort to brush aside the emotions that reignited at the thought of the terrible memory. Hermione had no choice to agree with a silent nod, unwilling to show any sign of weakness, but inwardly trembling in fear at the horrifying experience she had suffered while at Malfoy Manor. It was the first time either had spoken directly of the incident, but from the way Lucius tried to steer the conversation away from it, it seemed that neither of them were ready to discuss it calmly.

"So…Bellatrix…" Hermione sighed out as she attempted to gather herself together and steel her quivering nerves.

"If she was ever thoughtful enough to create a Horcrux, which I have reason to doubt, then it would most likely have been that knife of hers," Lucius said as he closed the book resting on his legs and placed it at his feet.

"But Horcruxes are generally hidden by their creators," Hermione rejoined in what she thought to be a reasonable argument until Lucius dispelled that view.

"You are forgetting that Bellatrix was never terribly careful or cautious," he reminded her as she sat back and drew up her legs before her to wrap her arms around her knees, having felt growing discomfort at kneeling for so long.

"Besides, she kept that knife with her at all times, from what I can recall," Lucius continued, giving Hermione much material to think upon.

"But could it have been a Horcrux?" Hermione mused aloud as she pondered the possiblities.

"Somehow, I cannot imagine her doing so, but until there is certain proof against that prospect, we will have to treat it as a possibility."

Hermione nodded as silence lapsed over them once more and covered any trail of thoughts that their conversation had left behind. Hermione felt the ease of conversing with Lucius slip away as the discussion ended and the former awkwardness returned. Glancing up, she saw Lucius gazing ahead of him with a frown, obviously caught up in thought. Accepting the opportunity to study him without truly considering it, Hermione observed his profile view, taking in the sight of his pointed features that his son had inherited all too strongly and the patrician beauty of his haughty face. For a man in his forties, he wasn't doing too badly in physical appearance and again, Hermione's resentment at physical perfection arose. It seemed unfair that someone so blatantly full of vices could have the fortune of not only bearing handsome features, but also aging well. She supposed it was part of some stupid nonsensical law of the universe that had all the heartless snobs in the world possessing the greatest beauty…

"Brains over beauty," Hermione muttered quietly to herself, unaware that Lucius also possessed a sharp sense of hearing.

"Was there something you wished to say, Miss Granger?" he asked with narrowed eyes as he turned to scrutinise her, much to Hermione's surprise.

"No, no. Just talking to myself," she assured him as she stood up to go and return to her previous seat at the desk on the other side of the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lucius give her a slightly suspicious look, but pretended not to notice and sat herself down once again, pulling the nearest sheaf of parchment towards her with a sigh.

They had found another piece to the puzzle. Now all they had to do was determine where it was placed.

 

Dinner was served in the same silence it had undergone on previous days, and Hermione set about eating without bothering to be worried by the lack of conversation anymore. She had surmised that Lucius was accustomed to eating in silence and she had little trouble imagining a family meal at the Malfoys'; pure Victorian. It made her increasingly detest the ancient ways of the pure-bloods that seemed to be far too outdated for any good purpose. She supposed it was good to be able to eat in an admirable manner, but extending that carefulness to human interaction was in her opinion, somewhat silly. Taking the risk of her plan backfiring on her, Hermione cleared her throat lightly before trying to break the wordlessness between her and Lucius.

"Did you ever take Divination when you were at school?" Hermione asked, hearing her quietened voice sound strangely loud against the quietude. Lucius looked up from across the width of the long table and didn't answer her for a moment as he finished his mouthful.

"I stopped after the first year of the subject," Lucius said nonchalantly while Hermione felt the tension around them loosen.

"I dropped out of it in third-year," Hermione explained as she thought back to that year. "It was becoming simply ridiculous."

"It is a subject that is academically undefined and perhaps should not be taught," Lucius replied in polite agreement while Hermione nodded at his words.

"Trelawney acted like a complete fraud when she taught us," she complained with a wave of her hand, "she'd just pretend everyone was going to die within the next half-hour and look at us with those goggly eyes of hers."

"She sounds positively inspirational," Lucius remarked in light sarcasm while Hermione failed to keep a smile of agreement off her face.

"It's not exactly something you can learn, is it? I always thought foresight is something that's given, not learnt," Hermione mused while Lucius didn't bother answering, being occupied in cutting up his roast lamb. Realising that she was about to lose the only conversant that she had, she quickly changed the subject to catch hold of his slipping attention.

"What was Hogwarts like when you went there?" She questioned quickly, having unthinkingly set down her knife and fork to watch him as he took him time chewing and swallowing before wiping the corners of his mouth delicately with his napkin.

"Different," Lucius answered simply, making Hermione twist her lips in irritation at his laconic mood. Whether it was intentional on his part or not, he always seemed to make it difficult for Hermione to behave well-mannered, but she guessed it was a test of sorts for her. Biting back a sharp comment, she pressed on with a great effort to sound calm yet curious.

"What was your favourite subject?"

"According to my own preference or that of the school syllabus?" Lucius asked with a slight smirk while Hermione barely stopped herself from shaking her head at his constant elusiveness.

"Obviously not the Dark Arts," she said dryly, "so yes, in the school syllabus."

"Possibly Transfiguration, though I greatly disliked the professor," Lucius confessed in an indifferent tone as he went about finishing his meal.

"Transfiguration?" Hermione repeated in surprise, not knowing why it had been so unexpected, but unable to shake off the feeling of how normal it made Lucius seem.

"I believe you heard me correct," he confirmed as he set down his cutlery on either side of his empty plate and steered his gaze to Hermione's face.

"But then Professor McGonagall must have taught you!" Hermione exclaimed in a voice just falling short of being unusually loud.

"Ten points to Gryffindor," Lucius replied with a hint of sarcasm in his smooth voice while Hermione instantly sobered up at his cool reaction.

"Professor Slughorn mentioned that you were in his Slug Club," Hermione said, changing the topic before either of them would come to voicing their disagreements.

"Much to the fool's delight, yes, I was," Lucius admitted as he shifted a little on his seat, still unable to find comfort on the hard wooden benches.

"So you didn't like him either," Hermione said with an accompanying sigh while she wondered if Lucius had liked anybody at school.

"I harbour no like or dislike for Slughorn," Lucius corrected evenly. "I respect him for his considerable power and his great list of contacts was certainly beneficial for me, but he is a man of many words…"

"And that makes him a fool?" Hermione asked slowly as she tried to figure out what his main point was.

Lucius gave an incline of his head in response before he added, "His eye for talent occasionally caused him to forget the vital rule upheld by all Slytherins." Hermione met his cold eyes with confusion clouding her mind as she wondered what he was alluding to. She caught sight of one of his supple eyebrows flicker up while he seemed to be staring at her expectantly. Delving into her own vast chamber of memories, Hermione tried to remember what Harry had told her about Slughorn. He was an exceptional Potions Master; he valued talent and ambition; he had overlooked Hermione's supposedly undesirable parentage because of her potential…

"He didn't mind Muggleborns, did he?" she suddenly said, having remembered that Lily Potter had once been a favourite with the professor.

"I think you can answer that," Lucius replied calmly as he looked at her with an unfathomable expression. "Draco mentioned something about Slughorn's leniency with you."

"He's the only Slytherin that I've ever met who wasn't biased," Hermione retorted with a look of defiance while Lucius only smiled coldly.

"I shall not shatter your illusions," Lucius assured her in a voice of feigned sympathy as he stood up from the table. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have some work to do."

Hermione didn't feel the need to reply as she knew he certainly wouldn't be offended at her lack of words. Instead, she barely spared him a glance as he left the kitchen and brooded over what his last words had been implying. She only half-noticed when Kreacher came to clear the finished meal and just about remembered to thank him distractedly when he pushed a mug of hot tea towards her. Hermione sipped absent-mindedly, her mind wandering down far too many paths for her to focus on one properly, and she didn't realise Kreacher standing by her side until she felt a tug at the hem of her robes. She looked down in surprise to see Kreacher gingerly pulling the fabric with a grimace on his squashed face.

"Oh, Kreacher! There's no need for that," she told him kindly as she reached out to try and take hold of his bony arm to raise him up, but was coldly reminded of who she was when the house-elf instinctively recoiled from her touch and backed away a step.

"Master Harry told Kreacher he was coming for Christmas," Kreacher wheezed while Hermione tried not to feel any resentment towards the elf for still bearing his age-old prejudice. "He says to Kreacher that the – the Weasleys are coming for a grand party."

"Why, yes, they are," Hermione affirmed with a frown, waiting patiently for Kreacher to illuminate her on his thoughts.

"Kreacher would like to surprise Master Harry and make the house pretty for him," the ancient elf croaked in a peculiarly sweet way. Hermione beamed at him with unabashed admiration while Kreacher seemed to grow shy under her blatant approbation and twisted his long, gnarly fingers nervously.

"That's so thoughtful of you, Kreacher! Harry will be so pleased," Hermione told him with a smile, glad to see the usually cranky elf looking happy at the thought of pleasing his master. "Can I help decorate the house?" Hermione asked, knowing that she was taking a chance by making such a request, uncertain if Kreacher would find the idea of sharing a task with a Muggleborn too difficult to deal with. She held her breath as the house-elf tilted his head to one side as he considered her words, and even went as far as crossing her fingers as she waited for him to decide. When at last, he turned his large grey orbs to look at her, Hermione could feel a sliver of her old determination for SPEW revived within her.

"If Master Harry's friend wants to help Kreacher, Kreacher will not refuse the…honour," the elf said finally, gulping noisily before he managed to voice the last word. Hermione gave him another warm smile as she stood up and gave him a respectful nod of her head.

"The honour is mine," she said with a laugh while Kreacher seemed to look at her as though she had gone quite mad. Patting back the sparse covering of white hair sprouting from his head, he muttered something Hermione didn't quite catch as he clicked his fingers and a box full of Christmas decorations appeared with a crack.

"I'll start in this room," Hermione said as she knelt to root around the box, impulsively grabbing some red and green tinsel as well as several rosy baubles and Christmas lights that consisted of miniature multi-coloured flames held in small jars. Feeling her subdued spirits pick up, she began adorning the kitchen, humming as she worked.

 

Lucius closed another book and put it aside with annoyance, having wasted two hours on searching for any information in tomes that covered everything but what he wanted to know. Exhaling deeply with a flare of frustration, he glanced up at the clock to see that it had gone past ten o'clock and rose out of his usual armchair. Feeling himself to be in an unproductively testy mood, he made his way downstairs to the kitchen with the intention of having a glass of whisky to restore his mental health. He idly wondered if Granger had gone to bed, doubting her being awake still, but remembering that she had made it a habit to announce her retirement before disappearing for the night. However, when he began to feel the first tittering of concern for her, Lucius dismissed it instantly, reminding himself that he was too irritated to put up with any unexplainable feelings.

Feeling a little more soothed at the thought of a drink, he opened the kitchen door, only to stop and stare at the difference in the room. Everywhere he looked, there seemed to be some form of festive decoration that made the high-ceilinged room look surprisingly welcoming.

"And I think it was very wrong of Sirius to treat you horribly like that. House-elves have rights too, you know?"

Lucius' eyes snapped to where the voice was coming from, and settled on Hermione standing at the other end of the room near the fireplace, her back to him as she reached up to hang some gold tinsel on a candelabra. It took him a moment to realise that the small, stooped creature near her was actually the house-elf, and it made him even more startled.

"Regulus had the right idea," Hermione was saying as she flicked her wand to fix the tinsel into an artful pose.

"Master Regulus was a great wizard," the elf croaked with a nod as he watched Granger with what Lucius knew to be cautious acceptance, looking surprisingly happy to be standing within two metres of a Muggleborn.

"Yes, he was," Hermione agreed in a respectful tone as she stood back to eye her handiwork. Lucius couldn't help feel something wither in him as he saw the obvious display of Christmas spirit in the room and wondered if the other rooms in the house had been equally favoured with seasonal attention. He was reminded of too many Christmases, both good and bad, and grew bitter at the thought. However, he was distracted too much by the oddly charming sight of Granger and the house-elf conversing to fall into a foul mood and couldn't hide his surprise fully when the girl glanced down at the elf and voiced a request.

"Kreacher, can you go check if Mr Malfoy is still in the drawing room? He might need something to drink to keep him going."

Lucius watched the elf give a curt nod before Disapparating with a loud crack, leaving a hollow silence in the room as Hermione imagined herself to be alone.

 

Hermione sighed as she studied the decorations with an approving eye, her spirits elevated by both the distraction of the approaching celebrations and gaining a little trust with Kreacher. She had been careful to avoid directly mentioning anything that would have upset him, but had succeeded in subtly telling him about the ideals and goals of her former organisation SPEW. She had been elated when Kreacher had begun making replies that were longer than three words and though Hermione knew he would never be either a friend or someone who completely trusted her, she was satisfied that she had at least won over his respect.

She had spent the last few hours adorning the hallway and lower staircase with festive ornamentations and was eager to finish the task. She wanted to add a little flavour to the drawing room, but was unwilling to do it if Lucius was present, as she still felt somewhat uncomfortable around him, though she couldn't find a logical reason for her uneasiness. She had asked Kreacher to check, using the excuse of being concerned over Lucius' wellbeing to stir the elf into obeying. She supposed it was impish of her, but it was for a good cause…

"You are so very considerate, Miss Granger."

Hermione gave a small yelp of surprise as she whirled around with her wand gripped tightly in hand to face Lucius who had somehow managed to approach within three feet of her without her noticing. Agitated by the rush of adrenalin in her body, Hermione could do nothing but glare at him in response to his appearance.

"I was actually in need of a drink," Lucius continued as he Summoned the bottle of Firewhisky and a tumbler out of the far cupboard. Hermione made no reply but watched him suspiciously as he drew up an armchair almost at her feet and sat down to observe her with a leisurely air.

"Alcohol's bad for you," she said abruptly, ignoring how stupid her own words sounded as Lucius poured himself a generous measure and swilled the dark liquid with a fluid flexing of his wrist.

"I am perfectly aware, thank you," he replied as his eyes left her to examine the whisky in his glass.

"And it dulls your senses," Hermione added, not quite sure why she was choosing to talk about his drinking habits when there were so many other things she could have said.

"Indeed," Lucius agreed as he tilted his head back slightly and raised the tumbler to his lips. Hermione watched him with budding irritation at his obvious lack of concern for her concern. Wait. My concern? She couldn't remember the point she had been trying to drive home and felt silent frustration at having her own mind grow addled against her rigorous will. Glancing down at the wizard calmly seated near her, she noticed that he had drained his glass rather quickly.

"Why do you even drink that stuff?" Hermione asked with a wrinkle of her nose as she imagined the bittersweet burning sensation of the whisky dissolving her throat.

"To forget," Lucius replied simply, apparently not paying her much attention as he poured himself a second glass. Hermione pursed her lips as she watched him with a disapproving eye, annoyed at his habit, but even more aggravated by the fact that it worried her. His last answer had also struck a chord of apprehension within her and she found herself wondering just how much someone of his history would have to drink in order to forget everything.

"It doesn't taste that good and ruins your body," Hermione reproached him in a quiet, surly voice as she watched him actively work to destroy himself.

"Perhaps that is what I want," Lucius answered serenely as he elegantly finished his third glass and refilled the tumbler. Horror crept into Hermione and lined her insides with curling cold as she wondered over his words. She had never thought him to be the kind who might desire a swift end. She had always thought him to be too proud for that; someone who would have gone to any lengths to defeat the concept of death…but then again, perhaps she was imagining Lucius to have grown into the cast left by his former master and it was pure ignorance on her part to think of him as a facsimile of Voldemort. Maybe he was simply trying to forget the rift in his family that was obviously more than he ever made out.

"Humans were born to destroy," Lucius spoke suddenly, his smooth voice sounding strangely comforting in the folds of darkness. "You see the Muggles," he said while Hermione bristled in angry anticipation, "they are destroying the very world that nurtures them."

"Wizards are no different!" Hermione reasoned in a quiet but fierce tone, eager to defend the people who some bigoted wizardfolk thought to be lesser.

"Indeed. The proof is all too evident," Lucius agreed in a lowered voice, much to Hermione's surprise. She watched him with reluctant fascination as he held his half-full glass up to the sallow light of the candles in their brackets on the wall, his grey eyes following the swirl of the liquid that seemed to glitter veiled amber in the low light.

"This world that we live in… This world that your precious Potter friend is trying to save and restore… It was destroyed a long time ago."

Hermione stared at him in dumbfound astonishment, bewildered by his unusual state of confession and a quieter part of her wondered if it was simply the alleviating effects of the whisky. He didn't seem to notice her intense interest in him as he sat staring into the dying flames in the blackened hearth, leaving Hermione scared to even blink in case it disturbed whatever mood he had fallen under and removed him from her reach.

"A world built on lies is destined to fall," he went on as he set his glass down on the armrest of his chair and looked up to direct his gaze at his only listener. "An entire race is ending because of those lies."

"What do you mean?" Hermione impulsively prompted him in a whisper, slowly sinking down to the floor to sit on the rug before the fire.

"I hate Divination, Miss Granger," Lucius stated matter-of-factly, "but I can predict using human intuitiveness, that in order to survive, this old world will have to be left to burn and the new will be raised from the ashes."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked in rising panic, frightened by the calm yet purposeful tone he adopted to state his confusing thoughts. She didn't like the way he made it sound as though a great tragedy would happen. They had had Voldemort; how much more catastrophic would it get before people got their freedom?

"You are much concerned on the freedom of all living beings," he remarked in an infuriatingly elusive continuation of his musings.

"Yes, I am," Hermione affirmed with a ferocity that arose whenever others doubted either her or the fact that every living organism had rights.

"I imagine that in the new world, your attitude will help improve it greatly," Lucius said dismissively as he glanced to the other end of the room to look out at the night through the window. Hermione was struck speechless yet again as she tried to find a reason that told her that his compliment was actually some kind of barbed attack. Yet no matter how much she contemplated it, she could find nothing more about Lucius' attitude than simple weariness. She was unwilling to trust that to be his only mood as he was far too complex to resort to such a simple frame of mind, but she couldn't think of any other use this conversation was serving him.

"Perhaps you will not waste your intelligence on foolery," Lucius sighed at last as he leaned back in his chair and briefly closed his eyes. Taking advantage of his openness, Hermione quietly rose and came to kneel at his feet, not wanting to stand before him as it would give her an unwanted air or confronting him. She waited for Lucius to react to her presence and when she realised that he wasn't going to, she hesitantly reached out to lightly touch the fingers that were curled around the empty tumbler. Her initiative was rewarded as she gained his attention, his eyes snapping open and his entire form tensing subtly as he realised her close proximity.

"You talk about everything as if you're not going to be there to see it happen," Hermione told him softly, careful not to touch him as she was sure he wouldn't appreciate it. It didn't make much sense to her logicality to feel so overwhelmingly sympathetic to a man whom she usually found irritating and a reluctant acquaintance, but according to her heart, it made perfect sense. Lucius was lonely in a world of change; she supposed there was nothing to lose if she made the effort of understanding him.

"I will see it happen, but through the eyes of my son," Lucius said in a reluctant manner as though it tested him to talk. "I will ensure his survival."

"You love him very much, don't you?" Hermione said in a quiet murmur, wanting nothing from him but an acknowledgment of something which might yet save him.

"He is my son," Lucius replied in a justification for something which he imagined to be a weakness and it pained Hermione to see him think so.

"I don't understand how you were a Death Eater if you're capable of loving," she said with a disbelieving shake of her head as she shifted back so that she was sitting a short distance away from him, watching him with a confused frown. "You don't strike me as the insane murderer type."

"How flattering," Lucius remarked dryly as he crossed his legs loosely at the ankles. "Suffice to say, I am not an insane murderer."

"But did you ever kill anyone?"

"Only those who stood in the way of progress," Lucius admitted in a mild manner, appearing completely unashamed of his confession and frightening Hermione with his candour. She didn't like the sound of what such 'progress' might entail, but found herself strongly reminded of the horrible phrase 'the end justifies the means'.

"But that means you would've eradicated everyone who wasn't a pure-blood!" she countered in complaint, failing to see how his logic worked.

"Not necessarily," Lucius corrected imperturbably, "progress can be defined in many ways."

"But wasn't that the general aim of the Death Eaters? To rid the world of those of impure blood?"

"Of Death Eaters perhaps, but it was not the centre point of my personal agenda," Lucius divulged in a manner that made him seem no longer careful of keeping everything a secret.

"But surely that isn't enough of an excuse to try and kill Harry," Hermione threw in with the hopes of making him realise that no one should be killed simply for appearing to obstruct 'progress'.

"There was no way that the Dark Lord would move on until he had dealt with Potter once and for all. It was impossible to get him to focus on anything else," Lucius explained calmly as one finger absent-mindedly stroked the empty glass that he was cradling in his hands. "Potter was stopping the Dark Lord from seeing through the greater scope of life and I knew that we would make no advancement whilst the Dark Lord harboured such an obsession over him," Lucius continued thoughtfully, making Hermione hold her tongue as she waited impatiently for him to finish. "He was stopping progress."

"But what about at the Department of Mysteries?" Hermione asked, narrowly missing interrupting him in her eagerness to find the answers.

"What about it?"

"You almost killed all of us!"

"You may have noticed, but you are all still alive," Lucius pointed out with a mirthless smile. "If I had wanted you dead, I would have simply ordered for you and all your friends to be killed and delivered Potter to the Dark Lord myself. Imagine how delighted he would have been! I would have been rewarded beyond measure…"

"Then why didn't you?" Hermione asked in a low murmur, feeling her Gryffindor pride and rage simmer uncertainly near the surface. "Why didn't you kill us all there and then? Your side would have won then, not to mention the personal gains you would've got."

"I am not in the habit of murder," Lucius answered with a hint of haughtiness. "Whether I made the right choice or not by giving you all a chance to live, I do not know, but I am glad that I did not resort to the cowardice of killing those of lesser skill."

"And I suppose you never attack a wandless person either?" Hermione muttered with sarcasm as she felt her ire leap at the fact that Lucius seemed to think it all terribly noble of him.

"And I suppose that your little Gryffindor heart is positively bleeding in protest that my ways are not noble and courageous?" Lucius rejoined with a cold smile as Hermione spluttered an objection in vain. "Spare me your indignation. I have suffered a lot worse than little Gryffindors badgering at my apparent lack of humanness."

"Like what, exactly?" Hermione managed to ask as she threatened to explode with said righteous indignation.

"It is getting late. You should get some sleep," Lucius said in response, his flickering smirk telling Hermione that he knew perfectly well how riled up she was getting over his responses. With much effort, Hermione let go of her fuming righteous anger and restored a sense of order over her mixed emotions. Rising to her feet, she hesitated to see if Lucius was going to follow his own suggestion, but felt an unexpected flash of disappointment when she realised that he had dismissed her. She could feel the charged heat of the fiery atmosphere lingering from her own bubbling irritation, but already, Lucius seemed to have sunk back into the unusual melancholy she had witnessed earlier on in their conversation. Seeing him so accepting of his defeat pulled at Hermione in such a way that couldn't be ignored, and before she knew it, she was standing by his side.

Hoping that he wouldn't notice her trembling tentativeness, she waited for his eyes to rise to meet hers, and was not disappointed. Lucius' eyes were as clear and cold as ever, lacking in any distinct emotion but not empty either. They were neither the eyes of a murderer nor a victim. They were simply…the eyes of a father.

"If you want to talk…" she offered, but tailed off when her mind refused to supply any decent words to finish the sentence. Lucius seemed to understand what she had been wanting to say however, and gave the tiniest of inclinations of his head to let her know.

"Good night, Miss Granger," he said in an answer to her suggestion, and Hermione could do nothing else to help him. Knowing better than to push her luck, she sighed and murmured a 'good night' before beginning to walk away. She had only taken two steps however, when she stopped with a jerk of surprise at the feel of his fingers lightly brushing against her wrist. With increased breathing rapidity, she made a small half-turn so that she was not quite facing him, and looked at him with puzzlement.

"Sleep well," Lucius added softly before pulling his hand back and turning his face away from her. It took Hermione several seconds for her to realise that he had dismissed her and by the time she had ambled up to her room, she was lost in her thoughts, lightly handling the wrist that seemed to have ghostly cold imprints left by his fingers.

33\. A Christmas to Remember

The days before Christmas had passed swiftly, merging from one to the next with a confusing quality, making that week feel a lot busier than it had actually been. Hermione had managed to do some Christmas shopping in Diagon Alley under the guise of Polyjuice potion, having been accompanied by Lucius who had somehow salvaged another piece of Sirius' hair and duplicated it in the event of more such trips in the future. The presents Hermione had bought were fairly simple, but she thought that they were all on the agreeable side of quality, rather than quantity. Together with Kreacher, she had succeeded in finishing decorating the gloomy rooms of Grimmauld Place and had helped the elf clean the spare bedrooms in case Harry or anyone else needed to stay the night. Lucius had made a remark that hinted of his disapproval of anyone sleeping over, but Hermione had pointed out to him that he could have the grand honour of making sure she didn't get possessed by her curse. He had not bothered making any further comments after that, but Hermione did notice a cold bitterness smooth over him, and despite being distracted by the excitement of seeing her old friends, she hadn't been able to forget worrying about him completely.

Christmas morning arrived in peaceful quietude, the sweet sound of distant birdsong waking Hermione from her surprisingly restful slumber and causing her to reach for her wand to draw back the curtains and let in the light. She blinked in surprise as the brightness of the perfect winter day entered the room, and took her time in letting her eyes adjust before she rose for the day, her nerves already jingling with anticipation. Sitting at her vanity case as she brushed her hair, Hermione was able to smile with abandon as she recalled the lovely long afternoon she had spent at her parents' house the day before, without her guard to accompany her, as Lucius had refused to even consider the option of taking her into the dwelling of Muggles and waiting for her there. With a sigh of contentment and forgiving spirit, Hermione contemplated the elder wizard who had grown seemingly withdrawn in the last few days.

Lucius had appeared cold and indifferent at the best of times during the week, and Hermione had begun wondering if that was how he behaved when he didn't bother putting on a mask of false expression. However, she was sure he was far from happy, as she had detected a certain kind of sourness about him as he went about his work with icy silence. The matter had been bugging her for a while now, but Hermione hadn't found the time amidst the seasonal preparations to sit down and contemplate it in a calm, stable manner until that morning.

Taking an extra ten minutes to charm her bushy hair into tamer tresses and curls, she silently chastised herself for her enhanced vanity and actually laughed out loud at her own foolishness. As she pulled her deep green robes out of her wardrobe and got dressed, her eyes checked the decency reflected in her long mirror while her mind tried to sort through the backlog of thoughts stacked up at the back of her mind.

When she was satisfied that she looked presentable, she left her room in search of breakfast, still vaguely following her train of thoughts regarding Lucius and his overcast temper. However, it became more and more difficult to think about him properly when she kept being distracted by the barely containable excitement of the day's plans. She knew Harry, Ginny, George and some of her other friends would be appearing at lunchtime to have lunch with her as part of a younger party, but Mr and Mrs Weasley, Percy, Kingsley and various other Order members were expected to come to dine and celebrate in the evening. All in all, Hermione couldn't think of a much better way to see and catch up with all her friends. However, her elated spirits were dampened somewhat as she sat down for breakfast and faced a wall of newspaper that Lucius was holding up opposite her. Not wishing for him to miss out on the Christmas spirit or ruin her own, Hermione cleared her throat slightly.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, Miss Granger," was the laconic reply, the top of the paper barely tilting to allow cool grey eyes to flash at her before they were hidden again behind the print.

"Merry Christmas," Hermione ploughed on bravely, giving a nod of thanks to Kreacher who had slid a plate of steaming breakfast before her.

"And to you too," Lucius replied in a slightly more reserved tone, his drawling voice sounding positively lacklustre without its usual ounce of snide dryness or smooth politeness. Hermione sighed as she picked up her knife and fork and began to cut up her bacon; communication had grown increasingly difficult with the elder Malfoy since the evening he had spilled his thoughts to her. She could still remember the light she had seen in his eyes as he expressed his unusual melancholy and the way he had brushed her wrist… Shaking herself free from a dangerous line of thought, Hermione reassured herself that she had glimpsed some very human part of Lucius that night, and was not ready to give up on him yet.

"You're sounding particularly cheerful today, you know?" she commented as she began her meal. The paper barely made a rustle as he turned the page, not even giving her the common courtesy of addressing his face.

"The day finds me in a delighted mood," Lucius replied flatly, leaving Hermione no choice but to put the task of engaging him in conversation on hold. If he wished to be Scrooge, then she would leave him to it. However, even Scrooge deserved to know the plans for the day, and Hermione renewed her determination as she stopped eating to speak.

"I'm expecting a lot of people to come over today."

"I am aware of that," Lucius responded indifferently as he failed to lower the Prophet. Hermione took a moment to catch herself and rein in her annoyance, directing her glare at the face of some society witch who was beaming at her from the back page and drew a deep breath.

"I know that neither my friends nor you are on terribly good terms, and even though I want to see them very much, I don't want their presence to cause you any…disturbance."

"How very considerate of you."

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Hermione said with a hint of trying to prompt something slightly more than apathy from him.

"Indeed."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" she exclaimed as she set down her knife and fork with a firm clang on the table. "Please would you stop reading that stupid paper and look at me when I'm talking to you?"

Slowly, slowly, the printed sheets folded down and Hermione found herself staring at the pale face of Lucius, who didn't look affected at all by her sudden burst of charged ire. In fact, Hermione thought he looked strangely lacking of energy from the faint hint of dark flesh beneath his eyes. She had managed to grab control of her temper as soon as she had drawn his attention, but now that she had his deep eyes gazing at her unwaveringly, she found herself at a loss on what to say.

"Yes, well, um…"

"My apologies," Lucius stated stiffly as he pushed the folded Prophet away to one side and propped his elbows on the table to rest his chin on his linked hands. "I had not realised how much my habits were aggravating you."

Hermione was taken aback by his sudden reversion to diffident politeness that he sometimes used to charm his way out, and she found herself unable to do anything but accept his apology, even if it was the work of pure deceit.

"Well, I'm sorry for – er – shouting at you," she said with a slight blush of bashfulness as she tried to appear demure and ladylike, which was a struggle for someone of her fiery character.

"Apology accepted," Lucius said with a little nod, slinking smoothly into a tone that had lost its previous sincerity and had adopted a trace of condescension, much to Hermione's exasperation. "You were saying, Miss Granger…?"

"Um… Oh yes! I think I told you already, but some of my friends are coming over for lunch and we'll be joined by members of the Order in the evening."

"I see," Lucius replied with a thoughtful look. "I hope you will not be offended if I make myself scarce during those hours. I do not find the thought of facing those of…a different nature to me particularly agreeable."

"Sure; I understand," Hermione said as she resumed her eating again. "But you're always welcome to join us if you want."

Lucius gave a mere incline of his head at the offer and it was nothing less than Hermione had expected. She didn't object when the paper rose again and created a curtain of print between herself and Lucius, but felt only a sense of pity for him and also disappointment at the thought of him secluding himself from the merriment. Hermione knew it would be more than a miracle if he was to suddenly abandon any previous biased knowledge and simple enjoy the revels with them, but still, it made her sad to think of anyone having to be lonely at a time when people gathered together.

 

"Harry!"

"Hermione!" Harry greeted enthusiastically as he received her tight hug without complaint. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" Hermione echoed as she put him back at arm's length and squealed at the sight of several more people coming through the front door. "George! Ginny! Neville! Luna!"

"Alright, Hermione?" George said with a grin as he sauntered in, giving her a wink before hugging her.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just feeling so surprised and excited to see you all!" she said as she pulled out of their hug to greet her other friends. They exchanged seasonal greetings and shared titbits of information and gossip as they moved into the kitchen. Hermione felt abuzz with the surprisingly surreal presence of her closest friends, unable to stop smiling as everyone settled into armchairs with a relaxed air. It was especially strange for her to see Neville and Luna as she hadn't seen them in the past six months, leaving plenty for all of them to catch up on. She listened and joined in with the general chatter in high spirits, only to have them slowly, slowly curtailed somewhat by the absence of her other closest friend; Ron. Every time she looked at George as he cracked a joke, she was reminded of someone else who also had flaming red hair and freckles; a someone whom she found herself sorely missing. She didn't want to dampen the mood in the least by her singular thread of saddened thoughts, but she wasn't sure if she could hide her lingering grief behind her forced smile. However, she did her best to remain joyful and social, noting how everyone else seemed to steer clear of the topic regarding her Ron.

Ginny had returned from her Quidditch training abroad in the last few weeks for Christmas and was as vibrant and Ginny as ever, tossing up snarky comments and blunt observations in a most warming manner. Hermione couldn't help but notice that although Harry and Ginny weren't even sitting next to each other, there was something about them, probably the small looks they shared, that gave them the image of a couple truly and happily in love. It made Hermione glow in happiness to think of her friends having found a source of flowing joy, but she also had to admit that she felt a murmur of envy and a slight jab to the heart at the thought of another Weasley who should have been there with them to celebrate…

"So, Hermione," George said at last after Neville had finished talking about his new apprenticeship with Professor Sprout at Hogwarts. "Heard you were living with a vampire or something hanging around the place."

"Vampire?" Hermione asked with a slight frown while George gave her a knowing grin.

"He means Malfoy," Ginny said matter-of-factly while Neville actually grew pale at the mention of the name and Luna gave a hum of curiosity.

"Oh, him," Hermione said as she realised her slowness on the uptake. "Sorry, my brain's just all out today."

"Wow. This should be recorded in history," Harry said with a growing smirk. "Hermione Granger has a bad brain day!"

"Oh, shut up, you!" Hermione retorted in mock indignation, unable to hold back the laughter that escaped her lips after a short moment.

"Anyways, how is it, living with him?" Ginny said, bringing them all back to the original point, and giving Hermione a sharp look to let her know that she was being examined.

"Well, we've managed to co-exist without even hexing each other…" Hermione said thoughtfully as she tried her best to think how to describe the strange kind of relationship that had formed between the former enemies.

"You should look out, Hermione," Luna said in her dreamy voice, "he might have Crockwits, because they love nesting in golden hair."

"Um…And what exactly are 'Crockwits', Luna?" George said in a voice that was threatening to melt in a bout of laughter, but he managed to keep his mirth tightly controlled as his younger sister shot him a warning look.

"They're a type of miniscule pixies that make the infested person think bad thoughts. I luckily don't have any, but daddy said it was because my hair isn't quite the right colour of gold," Luna explained, apparently oblivious of the circle of restrained giggles around her.

"Well, it's lucky that Malfoy hasn't got golden locks then, isn't it?" Ginny said with a growing grin, trying not to laugh as she spoke.

"No, he's albino, like the Ferret," Harry confirmed with a chortle, earning a sudden outburst of hearty laughter as everyone found reason to grin at the memory of Draco Malfoy as a bouncing white ferret. Several eyebrows shot up in alarm at a large crack that heralded the appearance of Kreacher, who was wearing a tatty old Father Christmas hat, in addition to his usual outfit of a clean white pillowcase.

"Kreacher wishes Master Harry and his friends a Merry Christmas," the old elf croaked, and Hermione was sure that none of the others could possibly not feel how sweet the house-elf was being, and she was right. All of them, even George, were looking at the scrawny being with a smile. It made her swell with pride to think that her long conversation with the elf might have contributed in his pleasing courtesy, as she had talked to him about elves having equal rights to that of any beings, even wizards.

"Thanks, Kreacher," Harry said with a hint of fondness in his voice as he awkwardly patted the little elf on the shoulder. "A Merry Christmas to you too."

"Kreacher has come to announce that lunch is ready," Kreacher said when he had finished bowing deeply at Harry.

"Sounds good to me!" George said as they all stood up, laughter pealing pleasantly from everybody's lips as mirth came easily.

 

The rest of the afternoon had been spent in the warm confines of the kitchen, where jokes and stories were told to amuse, and they even played several rounds of charades that had them in fits of laughter. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had had so much fun, and for most of the time, she had managed to forget both Ron and Lucius, much to her annoyance when she did remember them. She wasn't sure if Lucius was still in the house, for they had neither heard nor seen anything of him since her friends' arrival, but she had no time to slip away to search for him, as she was afraid of missing out.

It had gone past five in the evening when the first of their later guests arrived. Like a pack of teenagers, they had all rushed out to greet Percy, who had smiled sheepishly at Hermione, and Mr and Mrs Weasley. Percy had offered his hand and voiced his deepest apologies for being such a dunce and sending in someone as ridiculous as Dahlia Vane, and Hermione hadn't had it in her heart to do anything but forgive him, much to his relief. After their reconciliation, Hermione had been enveloped in Mrs Weasley's motherly hug as the elder witch sniffled slightly with tears of joy welling lightly in her eyes.

"I've been so worried about you, my dear," Mrs Weasley said to Hermione as she held her back at arm's length, eyes travelling searchingly over her. "Are you sure you're having enough to eat?"

"Yes, Mrs Weasley, don't worry," Hermione said with a laugh, glad to see the woman who had been like a second mother to her.

"Arthur and I have been more than concerned for you," Mrs Weasley said as they all trooped back to the kitchen, the narrow hallway not allowing them to walk more than two at a time. "We've thought about dropping in several times, but Harry asked us not to."

"What's there to worry about?" Hermione asked in surprise, genuinely at a loss for what could possibly be a threat to her beside the curse itself.

"Well," Mrs Weasley said in a lowered voice as everyone passed them and headed towards the fireplace. "I, for one, don't like the idea of that – that monster of a man sharing a house with you."

"Oh, you mean Mr Malfoy?" Hermione asked, taken aback by both Mrs Weasley's overwhelming concern and her own lack of it regarding Lucius.

"He hasn't…done anything to you, has he?" Mrs Weasley asked in a hushed tone, her voice sounding almost nervous as she made her enquiry.

"No, no, don't worry," Hermione reassured her calmly, "he's been nothing but a gentleman since our first proper acquaintance," she added, filled with an unexplainable desire to tell the rest of the world what Lucius Malfoy was really like. However, she continued to see a trace of worry and doubt written across Mrs Weasley's kind features, and inwardly sighed. She herself had difficulty accepting Lucius as something other than a nasty character; she could hardly expect a Weasley, who had generations' worth of family feud against the Malfoys, to accept that he was even a man with a heart.

"Well, I'm glad to see you're well, my dear," Mrs Weasley said with a warm smile while patting Hermione's arm. "Now, I'd like to cook, if I may."

"Oh, you don't have to! Kreacher said he would do it."

"Nonsense! I always cook the Christmas dinner," Mrs Weasley said with a dismissive wave as Hermione began to make weak protestations, actually preferring the Weasley matriarch to cook as she had missed the her food.

"You go and enjoy yourself, Hermione," Mrs Weasley said as she shooed an abashed Hermione towards the other end of the room where everyone else was currently lounging. "Leave the food to me."

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley," Hermione said with a smile before she sat down in a chair beside Mr Weasley, who stopped in his telling of some ministry tale to greet her.

"Hello, Hermione!" he said with a smile on his thin, freckled face. "How have you been keeping?"

"Very well, thanks, Mr Weasley," Hermione replied . "How are things at the Ministry?"

"Suffering from missing a talented young woman like you," he said with a wink while a light blush appeared on Hermione's cheeks as she murmured her thanks, feeling slightly embarrassed by the clear exaltation of her skills.

"Are Bill and Fleur coming?" she asked in order to change the subject.

"Yes, they should be here very soon, along with Charlie and a friend," Mr Weasley said with a grin that was mirrored by his son who sat opposite him, and Hermione caught sight of Harry carefully trying to hide his wide smile as well. Bemused by the sense of knowing secrecy that radiated off the Gryffindor graduates who all lacked a good dose of subtlety, Hermione was about to ask what they were keeping from her, when the doorbell rang again.

"I'll go answer it," Harry offered immediately, causing Hermione to be even more confused at how planned everything seemed to be.

"That'll be them," Mr Weasley said in barely contained excitement while even Ginny couldn't hide her grin. Hermione was about to ask her what was going on, when she heard Harry return with the new arrivals, and she turned back to face them, only to gawk in astonishment.

"Look who've turned up!" Harry called out merrily as he stepped aside and the newcomers filed in. Bill came first, his scarred face now looking a lot more healed and even resembling his past self who had borne good looks. Behind him, beautiful and radiant as ever, came Fleur, who was smiling a captivating smile while holding Bill's hand. Charlie, all mounds of muscle, sauntered in with a rugged smile as he greeted them with a 'hey' and followed Bill and Fleur who were walking towards the fireplace. Behind him, came the last of the small entourage, looking shy with uncertainty, his tall frame looking shortened as he shrugged his shoulders together. His blue eyes swept around the room nervously before settling on Hermione, causing her heart to still in frozen shock.

Ron.

She was sure he was standing there in the room, not a elusive shard of her dreams nor a work of her mind.

Ron. Ron. Ron.

Suddenly, she was free of the hold her disbelief had on her, and she had crossed the room in a blink of an eye and thrown her arms around Ron's neck. She hadn't even thought to greet him words, but embraced him tightly with eyes squeezed shut as a lone tear slipped out and trailed down her cheek. She didn't notice the quiet murmur of approving words and sighs as she welcomed Ron, and missed the sight of Mrs Weasley dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a handkercheif. All she could think about, was how much she had missed him and how much she had worried that he would never come back. When she felt his arms slowly rise to return her fierce hug, she went limp with relief and sunk further against his chest, allowing the tears to flow faster out of her opened eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Hermione," Ron mumbled into her hair in a manner that reminded her of his awkward, teenager self, causing her to laugh despite her choked sobs at the cuteness of his fumbling ways.

"I'm so glad you're back, Ron," she whispered to him as she hugged him for a moment longer, before releasing him and staring straight into his light blue eyes with a vivid smile. "I'm so happy."

"Yeah, me too," Ron said with a small smile of his own, although a detached part of Hermione did recall the slight hesitation and awkwardness in the way he said the words.

"Stop being so anti-social and come join us!" Charlie called to them with a good-natured laugh while the others chuckled. With a watery-eyed smile and a light-hearted laugh, Hermione offered her hand to Ron, who took it, and walking towards the waiting crowd of friends.

 

Throughout dinner, Hermione kept pausing in her eating to glance at her companion who sat on her right, unable to stop marvelling at the strange yet incredible turn of events. The sight of Ron happily feasting on the rich Christmas turkey filled her with an overwhelming sense of joy, and she barely noticed what Ginny was saying, only catching the occasional words such as 'loner' and 'family man' amidst the low commentary. Hermione was too consumed in cherishing every moment with Ron, who fate had decided to return to her, much to her thankfulness. However, she couldn't help but notice how much more Ron seemed to have quietened, still fairly talkative with those around him, but appearing to be slightly stilted towards her, much to her confusion. When she felt an elbow dig in her ribs, Hermione snapped out of her reverie to turn to Ginny with a look of impatience.

"Did you hear anything I just said?" the young redhead demanded with an equally impatient look while Hermione sighed forlornly and turned her full attention to her.

"Sorry, no. My mind's been elsewhere."

"I noticed," Ginny remarked with a raising of her eyebrows while Hermione stopped her eating to push her food around her plate.

"What were you saying?" Hermione asked in a defeated tone while Ginny fixed her with an unwavering gaze.

"I was actually talking about Malfoy, but since you're so busy being enamoured by Ron, I'll tell you what I was going to tell you about him," Ginny said primly before continuing. "He's not been feeling…quite the same recently," she said in a low murmur, causing Hermione to lean in slightly to hear better, as the chatter around them had grown quite loud.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked in a similarly hushed voice, frowning as she tried to make sense of what was being told to her.

"Is Malfoy still in the house?"

"I – I don't know. Maybe," Hermione replied with a shrug. "But what's he got to do with Ron?"

Ginny's lips settled in a thin line while her finely-shaped brows twisted downwards slightly in a hint of a dark look while she exhaled deeply through her nose. Hermione watched her in growing anxiety, glancing back at Ron to see an unfamiliar expression of bitterness lying beneath the surface like a vague shadow, barely noticeable to anyone but those who knew him best. When she turned back to face Ginny, Hermione could see that her friend knew what she had just seen in Ron's being.

"Just think about it," she said quietly before she turned away from Hermione to talk to Harry who was sitting on the other side of her. Hermione straightened up in her own place as her mind reeled with thoughts and possiblities, Ginny's words echoing ominously in her ears.

 

The ranks of merrymakers had separated after dinner, staying together long enough to greet Kingsley, Andromeda and baby Teddy, and Professor McGonagall who had dropped by briefly before having to return to Hogwarts. The older adults had remained in the kitchen to chat while the younger generation had all migrated to the drawing room in order for a little space. Hermione had followed her friends to the room where she and Lucius usually spent their time, and tried to concentrate on remaining sociable and light-hearted, but the harder she tried, the more useless she became at it. Ginny's words continued to trouble her, and she wasn't sure if it was her imagination feeling overly active or not, but Ron did appear to be somewhat more withdrawn than she knew him to be, and in the moments when he thought nobody was watching him, a shadow would fall across his brooding face. She hadn't been overly affectionate with him, mostly because she was too embarrassed to do so in front of the others, but she also felt a horrible suspicion that he might not want her attentions in any way aside from that of a friend. She had tried subtly brushing her hand against him as they had risen from the dinner table, but she had felt a stab of hurt at his instinctive recoiling which had been unintentional on his part from what she could tell.

George had somehow managed to procure an entire box of Firewhisky which he now had opened in the room, and Hermione came out of her musings to see everyone circled around him as he handed out glasses of the dark amber liquid. As though wishing to relive the years of adolescence in which they had missed out on the usual follies of youth, Harry, Neville and Ron had decided to have a drinking race, in which they all tried to down their drinks as fast as possible. Hermione's attention was momentarily pinned down by the amusing sight of the three young men being boys, Neville having given up quickly as he complained that the Firewhisky burned his throat.

"Come on, Harry!" George yelled with a motivating shake of his fist as Harry raced Ron to finish his second glass.

"You're beating him, mate!" Charlie told Ron who hadn't stopped once to take a breath. All around them, their friends watched and cheered, nursing their own drinks in their hands. Hermione stood next to Ginny, holding her own glass of spirits as her mind began to fade back to a state of brooding contemplation, barely seeing the happenings before her. She gave a obligatory smile as Ron was announced the winner, much to his tipsy delight. Luna mentioned something about Snarquiffles and headed off on a lone tour of the house in search of them while George, Neville, Harry, Ginny and Charlie left the room to go and ambush Luna, taking the remaining bottles of Firewhisky with them. Hermione had been planning to stay behind to catch a breather, when Ginny grabbed her and dragged her along as they crept about in the gloomy old house. Hermione had no choice but to join in, and she was entertained for a while as they waited for Luna to appear on the landing of the first floor, dropping a rubber tarantula on her head when she appeared. After the initial thrill brought on by the sound of her exclamation of surprise, Hermione found herself slipping back into a pensive mode, and barely gave a nod as the band descended the stairs, laughing and joking. George and Charlie decided to return to the kitchen, and Ginny, Harry and Neville followed their example, giving Hermione the opportunity to slip back into the drawing room to finally have a moment of peace.

With a deep exhalation of relief, she opened the door to the drawing room, only to be met with the sound of male voices, and a sense of foreboding sprung from the depths of her gut. Her heart sank instantly as she saw the two wizards standing in the middle of the room, both figures strained with aggressive tension as they confronted each other. She could see Ron, bearing a look of sneering dislike, while his target of malevolence had his back to Hermione, his fine white-blond hair neatly pinned down with a black ribbon.

"But I suppose he doesn't need you to show him how to be a prat. He's always been one!" Ron was saying with an unfamiliarly cruel smile, much to Hermione's disappointment.

"Weasley, I am warning you," Lucius replied in an even tone Hermione knew to be a cover for his tightly controlled rage that he wouldn't be able to hold back for much longer.

"Or what?" Ron asked insolently, his dark expression looking amplified by his fervent hate for Lucius.

"Impertinent fool!" Lucius hissed as took a step towards Ron, his wand already pointing at the young man's chest as his anger bubbled forth. "Do not try my patience!"

Ron, his face having whitened with fear at the other man's sudden revealing of his inner demon, backed away uneasily, but Hermione was both surprised and dismayed to see Ron stagger to a standstill as the alcohol presumably brought an angry flush to his freckled cheeks, and he put on a great show of defiance.

"You're nothing but a pathetic bastard who's a sore loser!" Ron sneered triumphantly, before his face fell, eyes widened in instant fear at the sight of Lucius' raised wand. Without wasting another moment, Hermione flung herself across the room and in a split second, was yanking back on Lucius' wand arm and fighting with his limb which seemed to be stronger than her, though she gripped his arm with both her hands. In his rage, Lucius tried to shake her off with growling irritation, while Ron just stared at the wrestling pair in open-mouthed shock.

"There's no need for wands!" Hermione gasped at him breathlessly as he tried to shoulder her off. "Ron doesn't know what he's saying! It's just the – the drink in him talking!" Hermione tried to explain while Lucius glared past her at Ron, who had recovered from his initial surprise and was scowling back at Lucius. Finally, Hermione let go of Lucius, seeing as he had regained his cool sufficiently enough to rein in his fury, though his icy rage wasn't much of an improvement. Feeling another wave of insolence, Ron gave Lucius a smirk that would have looked right on a Slytherin, but looked horribly out of place on the face that Hermione knew so well.

"Giving up so quickly, Malfoy?" Ron taunted, his nasty character confusing Hermione and frightening her. The change a few weeks had wrought upon him, seemed vast and terrible in Hermione's eyes, and she found herself wondering if he too, was being possessed by some evil spirit.

"Do not push your luck," Lucius snarled at him, his aggressive tone causing Hermione to instinctively grab his arm in case he lunged forwards, but Lucius did nothing but gaze down his nose at Ron with overwhelming disdain and hate.

"Ha! You're one to talk!" Ron said with a mirthless laugh. "Look what happened to you! You pushed your luck until you got your slimy arse busted! Bet Voldemort wasn't impressed! He tried to replace you with your idiot son, but that didn't go very well, did it? Mind you, I felt quite sorry for the ferret, having you as his dad. Life must be bad."

This time, Ron did laugh with some conviction, though it sounded strangely warped and nothing like how he usually laughed. Hermione clung tighter on Lucius' arm as she felt him make the tiniest of movements to surge forwards, a muscle jumping erratically in his clamped jaw. Fearing the worse, she didn't stop to think as she tried her best to placate him.

"Please… He doesn't know better. Please, forgive him," she implored him in a quiet tone so that Ron couldn't hear her properly, knowing that the hushed pitch was bound to catch Lucius' attention. A small puff of hope arose in Hermione as she felt his rigid frame relax ever so slightly, and he let out a deep breath through his nose as he gathered the loose threads of his normally calm composure.

"I cannot forgive those who do not deserve to be forgiven," Lucius stated in a frosty tone, before he turned in a swirl of black robes and was out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him with such force, that it rattled in its frame. Hermione's shoulders slumped in both relief and defeat as she turned back to address Ron.

"Ron, you know he gets really touchy about his family. It wasn't considerate of you at all to say that to him," she said in what she thought to be a calm voice that held only a weak streak of chastising to it. However, she was surprised and hurt when she saw his pale blue eyes narrow as he looked at her with a suspicious look.

"I didn't know he gave a rat's tail about them!" he retorted hotly, though Hermione couldn't tell if his abnormally bad temper was due to his considerable intake of drink or not. "And anyways, why are you defending him? He's evil, Hermione, and I doubt he's changed."

"That's not true!" Hermione replied swiftly, her entreating tone catching Ron's wavering attention. "Yes, alright, so he pretty much hates us all, but that's why we mustn't hate him back! Don't you see?

With an unusual, cold look, Ron replied, "No, I don't."

Hermione's hands curled in fists by her side as she battled through the emotions running wild within her, trying to understand what was wrong with Ron. "Try to understand, Ron! He blatantly doesn't want to be here and he's not exactly a family friend, is he? Imagine what it's like for him!"

"Still doesn't change things, does it?" Ron countered with a shrug. "He's a malicious bastard and that's never going to change."

" How can you say that?" Hermione cried in reaction to her inner uproar at his prejudice. "He's - he's so much more than the horrible Death Eater we thought him to be. He's a – a caring father! Yes, he cares a lot for Draco!"

"Probably because he wants his heir to turn out semi-decent at least," Ron muttered sullenly. "The ferret doesn't even have an ounce of intelligence, and he's certainly not in anybody's good books."

"You can't just say that, Ron!" Hermione reprimanded him fiercely as her frustration built up.

"I just did," he replied flatly, his eyes looking duller in colour and devoid of its usual vibrant spark.

Hermione ignored his comment and ploughed on in an attempt to bring out the real Ron from whatever dark mood that was possessing him. "Mr Malfoy being here and away from his family is probably like when there was that thing with Percy and your family!"

"Percy wasn't a Death Eater!" Ron snapped irritably, while Hermione had to consciously tell herself not to scream in annoyance.

"Neither is Draco!" she argued back, feeling her cheeks heat up under the pressure of her aggravation.

"Yeah, he is! He's got the friggin' Mark, for Merlin's sake!" Ron all but yelled at her, his raised voice wounding her heart more than ever, the thought that he was shouting at her while staring her straight in the eyes with an expression of deep dislike, forcing Hermione into inner agony.

"He was forced into it, Ron! Once you're tied to Voldemort –" she shouted back at him, feeling a slice of satisfaction as Ron habitually flinched at the sound of the dreaded name, "–you can't back out!"

Recovering his angry stubbornness quickly after a falter in his tracks, Ron lashed back with renewed harshness. "How would you know? Malfoy was eager enough to suck up to You-Know-Who. He almost killed Katie Bell and me with his bloody enthusiasm!"

"He was desperate! His dad was in Azkaban and I'm sure Voldemort wasn't exactly understanding about it all. In fact, Voldemort probably made all kinds of threats and Draco had to do his mission because otherwise his entire family would've died!"

In a low mutter that Hermione wasn't sure she was supposed to hear, Ron said, "Would serve them right! How come trash like them survive when Lupin, Tonks and Fred…"

"It's just the way it is!" she cried in ire while Ron shot her a nasty look that suggested a deep rage boiling increasingly closer to the surface.

"Well, you're not the one who lost a brother, are you?"

"No, I'm not, but I wasn't trying to say that! Voldemort threatening Draco wasn't an excuse for him behave how he did, because it's obviously not right, but –"

"He set up a trap that got Dumbledore killed!" Ron snarled, flinging out the fact as though it were an excuse to condemn Draco. Feeling smothered and threatened by his continued resistance, Hermione fought to have him understand, although a part of her was aware that he was unlikely to oblige when he was in such an obviously wrong mood.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, Ron! Dumbledore knew he was dying and asked Professor Snape to do it!"

"Still, we would've had Dumbledore longer if the ferret hadn't got the Vanishing Cabinets working!" he argued back at her, the Firewhisky making him both brash and exaggerating.

"Dumbledore was dying, Ron! Draco's the same age as us! He didn't deserve to die!"

"So Dumbledore did?"

"That's not what I'm saying!" Hermione half-shrieked, her voice cracking from the strain of her frustration.

"Then what are you saying?" Ron asked in a distrustful tone. "Because it sounds like you're awfully into supporting poor 'ickle ferret, just because his dad's babysitting you."

"He's not babysitting me!"

"No, he's probably thinking up all kinds of perverted ideas on how to get you to –" Ron said in a dark mutter before Hermione cut in before he could anger her further.

"Shut up! Lucius isn't like that!"

"Lucius?"

There was a heavy silence as Ron stared at her with horrified incredulity written across his face, while Hermione bit her lower lip nervously, wanting to kick herself for having been so stupid. She knew how bad it would sound in Ron's ears because no one expected her to be on first-name terms with someone like Luicus, and she doubted Ron would understand the situation, especially given his current state of bewildering spite. Eventually, Ron seemed to be able to form a coherent sentence, for he ventured to speak, though his voice sounded quiet and quivered slightly with unfathomable emotions.

"You call him by that?"

"It's just a name," Hermione said quickly in an attempt to brush the matter off dismissively. However, Ron seemed adamant on finding out whatever his mind was conspiring against both Hermione and Lucius, for his voice grew tighter with suspicion as he questioned her.

"Does he call you 'Hermione'?"

"No! Of course not! I just – I just call him by his first name more to annoy him because he doesn't really like it," Hermione gabbled, wanting to smack herself over the head for sounding so obvious in her dismal excuses.

"I bet he does," Ron muttered mutinously. "A twisted pure-blood bastard like him probably thinks it's really fun, having someone like you to play around with."

"That's just sick, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed in open disgust and horror. "He's not like that at all! He hasn't done anything to me, and I know he'll never try."

Ron gave a snort in direct reply before voicing his thoughts with a sneer that made him appear ugly. "That's 'cause Harry's made him take the Vow which'll probably twist his balls off or something if he tries anything on you!"

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed in a mix of shock and repulsion.

"What? Is the idea of your precious Lucius getting hurt too much for you to bear?" he asked in an oddly distorted voice of false sweetness, which only fuelled the black mood rising in Hermione.

"He is not 'my precious'!" she stated through gritted teeth, loathing whatever thing had gripped Ron so soundly in its wickedness.

"Well, what did he tell you about his pure-blood lot? Did he mention anything about them using those of lesser blood for all kinds of…entertainment?" he pressed on in a harsh voice, making Hermione feel an urge to simply slap his face. Curtailing the temptation sharply, she tried to remain calm and detached, though she had a feeling that she was going to lose to her emotions anyway…

"No, but who cares? Mr Malfoy's not like that, and he genuinely regrets everything he's done!"

"How d'you know?" Ron shot back quickly, sounding greatly unconvinced on the matter. Hermione hesitated for a moment as she weighed her options, aware that she would risk sounding like an idiot if she made the reply she planned, but angrily beat off her uncertainty by the desire to teach Ron a lesson with truth.

"Because he told me so."

At her words, Ron gave a bark of a laugh that sounded insultingly mocking and scathing, much to her irritation and heart's pain. She squashed the feeling of agony spreading in her heart however, and looked at him with a cover of cold defiance, that seemed to sober him ever so slightly.

"Oh, so now you're going to believe everything he tells you? Are you really that stupid, Hermione? He's been known to hoodwink even Dumbledore with all his smooth-talk! Do you really think a heartless bastard like him is going to regret torturing and murdering masses of people? I'd say he's probably missing it…"

"I can't believe you… You've changed, Ron. I don't understand what's got into you," Hermione said in a lowered voice, searching his face for signs of the real Ron, unable to give up to the fact that his changed character was a permanent transformation.

"Neither do I. And it's probably no thanks to some knife-wielding sleepwalker," he mumbled sullenly, while a fire immediately leapt up in Hermione at his intentional wounding of her honour and pride.

"How – how dare you? It's not my fault Bellatrix cursed me, and you know I never, ever wanted to hurt you!" she found herself almost yelling at him, angry at both him and herself, all the unexplainable things only amounting in her state of aggravated confusion.

"Well, you did," he stated flatly.

"And maybe you deserved it!" she snapped as the tears began to leak out of her eyes, much to her furious exasperation as she hadn't wanted to have shown her weakness by doing something like crying, but it was too late to stem the flow. When she glanced up at Ron through watery lashes, Hermione thought she detected a fleeting expression of regret upon his face, but a moment later, she was looking at his unfamiliarly hardened features.

"That's rich, coming from a hypocrite like you! I'm glad I'm not marrying you! I don't want to wake up one morning and find myself in bits and pieces!" he retorted hotly in an unfathomable dislike of Hermione.

"Why, you – you horrible, horrible…" she started, before she was overwhelmed by a shuddering sob which she only managed to half-stifle.

"WHAT?" he demanded with a roar. "What am I, Hermione? A selfish bastard? How bad am I, if I'm worse than Malfoy?" Ron shouted as he shook a fist in the air.

"I never said anything like that!" Hermione said in her defence, cowering slightly from the sudden burst of physical anger from him.

"Well, it's clear, isn't it? I'm obviously not good enough for Miss Airy-Fairy-Do-Gooder Hermione Perfect Granger! She's too busy sympathising with murderers and torturers, not to mention probably doing all kinds of disgusting favours for them!"

"ENOUGH!!!" Hermione shrieked wildly, overtaken by her own anguish and rage that screamed at her. "You're right! I don't want to be with you if you're going to be so horrible and selfish! You deserve a lot less than me, Ronald!" she yelled without bothering to restrain herself, wanting nothing more than to hurt him, just as he had shattered her. She barely caught sight of the shock and hurt that flickered across his face before she was out the door, running to get away from the monster he was being.

"That's right! Run along to darling Lucius! I'm sure he'll help you forget everything!" Ron called after her through the open door, and though she tried to ignore his voice and not listen to him, the poison in his words was too strong, and she found herself crying harder as she ran up the stairs, not caring where she was going, as long as she was getting away from him. Her mind was going into overdrive with the overpowering load of thoughts and notions bombarding it, but Hermione did her best to shut them out as she ran to the safety of her room and slammed the door shut after her.

 

34\. Only a Dream

Hermione wasn't sure how much time had passed since she had locked herself in her room, but she found herself not really caring in the least. Her bottom had gone numb from sitting on the hard floor at the foot of her bed, but the growing physical pain was like a welcome distraction for her; she would accept anything that would take her away from her troubled thoughts. The first time someone knocked quietly on her door, she hadn't bothered answering, hoping that they would simply go away, but her caller was insistent and Hermione unlocked and opened the door with a wave of her wand, simply to lessen the attention. She glanced over to the door to see Harry's face in the dim light that was cast by a lone candle on her bedside table, and dully watched the shadow that went ahead of him as he slowly walked over to her, having closed the door quietly behind him.

"Hermione? What's wrong?" he asked in a soft voice, his concerned tone painting an enormous contrast to her and Ron's shouting match that was still replaying in her mind.

"It's – it's nothing. I'm just feeling…happy and sentimental," she said in a weak excuse, knowing that Harry wouldn't believe her.

"Hermione, those are not tears of joy. Even an idiot like me can see that!" he said to her as he sat down beside her, his words causing Hermione to give a small laugh before the sombreness of her situation took over her again and any wisps of mirth that had been present promptly faded. She sighed in exhausted defeat while Harry quietly sat down beside her, not saying a word, but his intentional silence making Hermione want to spill everything, which she did without much hesitation.

"It's just Ron. He's being so…" Hermione began, before she tailed off, not knowing how to describe how her other friend was being.

"Stupid?" Harry eventually offered with a questioning look, the sincerity of his suggestion causing Hermione to crack a sad little smile.

"Yes, you could put it like that," she agreed with another small sigh.

"He's been acting strange for a while now. It's almost like when he used to have to wear Slytherin's Locket. Remember how grouchy and horrible he'd be then?" Harry said while Hermione was reminded of the only other time when Ron had deserted her so completely and behaved like the coward she knew he wasn't.

"Of course I remember. And the thing is, he was just as horrible, or even more, to me just now," she admitted with a deep exhale.

"What – what did he say?" Harry asked tentatively, his shy tone striking the perfect pitch of sounding willing to act as confidante, but not probing or nosy.

"Just…horrible things about me…and Mr Malfoy as well," Hermione told him after a beat of hesitation, inwardly flinching at the very thoughts that were evoked from the venomous words Ron had said to her.

"Mr Malfoy?" Harry asked with his brows raised in surprise while Hermione could find neither the courage nor the confidence to look him in the eyes, feeling unexplainably ashamed of something, though she hadn't done anything wrong.

"Y-yes. He seems to think that he and Draco deserve to die, and not people like Fred," Hermione said in an effort to steer clear of certain suspicions that had arisen after her argument with Ron, and that were unpleasantly lingering on her mind.

"Oh, right…" Harry said in a momentary lack of articulacy, obviously having been caught unaware by the idea of Ron thinking such things.

"But it's not really Ron's fault," Hermione continued with a forlorn expression. "I suppose I should've known better than to expect anything from him."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked with a slight frown, confused by what Hermione was referring to.

"Ron probably told you already, but he was going to propose to me a little while ago," Hermione said in a melancholy voice as she stared at the dark sky through the long window of the room. Seeing Harry nodding from the corner of her eye, she continued. "I told him I didn't think it was a good idea to set anything between us in stone as everything's up in the air at the moment, what with the curse. I didn't want him to tie himself down to me so that he'd regret it later, and I didn't want to bind myself to him, because I was scared that our feelings would change…"

"You know Ron still loves you and won't ever stop," Harry pointed out to her gently, his words stirring the recently settled emotions in Hermione and making a few tears well up in her eyes. She rapidly wiped them away in an effort to stem the oncoming torrent of watery lament, and was glad to find that she had enough self-control to suppress any waves of overwhelming feelings.

"I know… The thing is, I've already told him that we shouldn't be anything more than friends for now, until we've got rid of the curse and everything's more settled and certain," Hermione explained in a quiet voice.

"If that's what you want, than I don't see what the problem is," Harry said with a shrug.

"But it's my fault that Ron acted like that," Hermione confessed miserably. "I've missed him so much and was so happy to see him today, that I forgot I even said anything like that. No wonder he was confused and angry. I'm so stupid…"

"Hermione," Harry sighed as he patted her consolingly on her shoulder, "you are not stupid, and it's not your fault that Ron behaved like a prick."

"It's nice of you to say that, Harry, but I really don't think that's true –" Hermione began before Harry interrupted her.

"Hermione, Ron's been acting real moody recently. Even Mr Weasley has noticed it. Ginny's told me that she overheard him telling George about how it's unfair that some of the Death Eaters haven't been convicted for life."

"They haven't?" Hermione asked in surprise, the sudden change of topic making her temporarily forget her unhappiness.

"No, not all of them. The worst ones are obviously going to be kept there for a really long time, possibly a lifetime, depending on the soundness of their minds, but Kingsley's been thinking that there needs to be a healthy balance of both old and new, and wants something substantial on the pure-blood front. Mind you, that's not to say that the idea went down well with some of the Ministry, but you know… He knows what he's doing," Harry explained in a calm manner that suggested he backed Kingsley's notions one hundred percent.

"Oh, I'm so glad!" Hermione exclaimed in a hushed tone of relief, much to Harry's surprise. "I've been thinking about talking to Kingsley about something like that. I now know that the Death Eaters weren't simply maniacs, though there were exceptions… Still, I'm happy to hear it, Harry," she said firmly, looking at Harry to see him staring at her in continued surprise.

"Uh, you are?" he managed to say, mystified by her unexpected reaction as he had been expecting her to be upset by the possible release of people who had once striven to overpower Muggles and Muggleborns.

"Yes, yes! I am! I believe in human rights, and locking someone up for a lifetime in a hellhole like Azkaban no matter how bad they've been, just doesn't seem fair to me," Hermione said resolutely, feeling stronger at having something greater to think about than her own pathetic current state of affairs.

"Well, er – that's good you approve. Kingsley was worried people like you might object, but he'll be glad to hear that you support his decision," Harry said in apparent relief.

"People like me?" Hermione asked with a slight frown.

"Yeah, you know, Muggleborns. Some Muggleborns and half-bloods made a racket because they didn't like the idea of Death Eaters on the loose again, but they've sort of been convinced that it'll be okay because the released convicts will always be monitored carefully."

"That sounds hopeful," Hermione remarked in approval, feeling a shred of revival as she thought about what she had been wanting to do before the curse had disabled her activities.

"Yeah, well I hope it works. It's gonna take a while for things to settle and sort stuff out. There's still a lot of blood prejudice stuff going around, even though most of the pure-blood fanatics have been jailed up. Still, at least people like Malfoy are doing alright," Harry said in a somewhat begrudging approval.

"Father or son?" Hermione asked in her desire for clarification.

"Son, I'd say. He's been real quiet, keeping his head down and working on whatever he's given without a squeak. It's actually pretty impressive."

"Hmm…" Hermione hummed in agreement as she thought Draco over.

"I do feel a bit sorry for him though," Harry admitted with a hint of pity in his tone.

"Why?" Hermione asked, surprised to see Harry so forgiving of someone he had been enemies with since the very first day of school.

"Well, the other day, I saw the kind of looks he got, and it kind of reminded me of what I used to get when there was all that trash that the Prophet made up about me while I was at school. Seems like Draco's getting the same treatment now. People look at him like…he's some kind of undesirable. I think he's really changed though…"

"Yes, I think so too," Hermione said with yet another sigh, feeling the weight of her burden shift a little as she sat with the one person who truly seemed to understand her in that moment. There was a comfortable silence between them as the conversation came to a natural end, neither wanting to drag it on or prolong the coming of a wordless state. Hermione felt a sliver of happiness at her renewed wish for a new world which would be fair and equal. The brief talk with Harry on Ministry matters had stimulated the underlying current of determination within her that had her wanting to forget her own troubles in the rebuilding of a free world. When Harry shuffled quietly besides her and slowly stood up, she was drawn away from the vigorous train of thoughts that was pounding through her mind, and watched him with a blank expression.

Having dusted himself off and stretched, Harry turned back to face her, offering his hand as he spoke. "Let's go open the presents." Hermione hesitated as she instantly wondered if she would have to face Ron so soon after their hurtful spat and didn't answer for a moment, but was relieved when Harry picked up on her worry.

"Charlie took Ron home," Harry told her reassuringly. "Mrs Weasley almost had a fit when she saw him staggering about like a drunk and said she didn't want him around if he was going to be like that."

"Oh… Does – does everyone else know about – um – you know, our argument?" Hermione asked as she took Harry's proffered hand and stood up, feeling her legs tingle as the blood rushed back into them.

"No, but Ron did mention something about talking to you as he left. Oh, and I think Ginny wants to talk to you about something, but she didn't say what," Harry said as he let go of her hand and made for the door.

"You go on ahead, Harry," Hermione said to him as she headed towards her vanity case. "I'll be down in a moment."

" 'Kay," she heard him say before the door opened and closed with a quiet click. Slumping into the seat in front of the portrait mirror, Hermione stared at her reflection in the gathering darkness. With only a single candle on the far side of the room to spread light, her face was mostly shaded by shadows while her dark eyes bore into themselves through the pane of looking glass. A feeling of emptiness arose in her as her mind was involuntarily filled with snippets of her and Ron's nasty fight, the bitter words he had said in his twisted rage sounding badly distorted and even more hateful in Hermione's memory. It pained her to think of being hated by someone who was supposed to be one of her best friends, and possibly something more. To think, that she felt slighted at being hated by people whose opinions she didn't even value, such as ignorant pure-bloods… Ron's scorn was a thousand times more agonising than anything those pure-bloods might have said to her.

When a single tear slipped from her right eye, Hermione swiftly wiped it away and stood up, determined not to let herself fall into depression. Gathering the courage needed to face everyone, she took a few deep breaths before she left her room, feeling slightly jittery as her nerves played tricks on her. Descending the stairs onto the first floor, she was caught off-guard by Lucius coming out of the drawing room, cutting into her path of direction.

Neither of them spoke for several moments, but stared into each other's eyes, Hermione finding Lucius' as unreadable as ever. She had never been afraid to gaze straight into his eyes, because he didn't seem to have emotions that were connected to the so-called windows of his soul. Though some people shied away when fixed with eye-to-eye gazes, Lucius never seemed to show a single sign of being uncomfortable, and even went so far to stare back with unwavering intensity, which no longer unnerved Hermione, but tended to evoke deep curiosity within her. It was strange, as Harry may have been the one she could talk to about problems in general, and Ginny might be her agony aunt, but it was Lucius whom Hermione found to be consoling in a silent sort of way. His wordless indifference to her heightened emotions usually served to flatten her panicked state and his rarely absent cool serenity calmed her. She could have simply stared into his light grey eyes forever without having to think…

"Potter will be waiting for you."

His unexpected, quietened voice made Hermione start out from her rambling reverie and she blinked several time before the meaning of his words finally settled into her. She didn't know if she was simply being foolish, but looking at him had made her feel a strong sense of connection between them as they shared a similar state of loneliness and abandonment. It didn't seem right that their reserved behaviour and everyone else's hostility should extend to a time like Christmas, and Hermione was seized by an idea, which she voiced without a single moment of hesitation.

"Come downstairs with me."

It was only when she had heard her own words out loud, that she realised the absurdity of the suggestion, which was a view that Lucius seemed to share. His pale face held an expression of veiled bitterness as he stared at her with his icy eyes that seemed to mock Hermione in her childish ideas.

"I think not," he said at last with a trace of a sneer, though the malicious gesture seemed to be made more out of habit than genuine malevolence in that moment. A part of Hermione was willing to accept his declination as it was clearly too much to expect him to be leaping with joy at meeting the people with whom he shared a rather objectionable history, but the old stubbornness in Hermione reasoned that people would never be able to overcome their differences if they continued to avoid each other. Filled with the desire of reconciliations and unifications, Hermione decided that there was no harm in trying again.

"Please?"

"No," Lucius said flatly as he turned back in his tracks to return to the drawing room, irritating Hermione with his tactics as he supposedly ran away from the his fears. Giving up on trying to act all ladylike, she hurried towards him just as he opened the door and made to cross the threshold, reaching out to grab his arm. The moment her fingers curled around his forearm, he stiffened and paused in the doorframe, turning his shadowed face a fraction to glance at her in an expressionless manner. Undeterred by his less-than-enthusiastic reaction, Hermione came to stand beside him, looking up into his chiselled features with a defiant air and meeting his cool, questioning eyes with spirited determination.

"You won't ever be able to move on if you keep running away," she told him steadily in a quietened voice, not giving into the temptation to look away as his eyes looked at her with a harrowed expression.

"I am not running away," he replied coldly, while Hermione gave him a deliberate raising of her eyebrows that clearly expressed her disbelief.

"No?" she asked him with a hint of insolence that she knew would aggravate him, and she was not surprised in the least when his eyes narrowed and a look of dislike slipped over his face.

"No," he maintained curtly. "I am merely saving lives by avoiding unnecessary conflict."

"I thought you liked conflict?" Hermione said in order to bait him, grabbing at anything that might lead to his change of mind.

"I do not recall saying anything to that effect," Lucius responded laconically while pulling his arm free of Hermione's hand.

"But don't you even want to see Mr Weasley? He's sitting downstairs, you know."

"Why in the name of Loxias would I want to see Arthur Weasley?" Lucius said with a real sneer, the look marring his aristocratic bearing.

"Because…" Hermione started then paused, unable to find a decent excuse that didn't involve some sort of fight between the two wizards, and she certainly didn't want to encourage any violence between them. Banking on honesty being her most powerful tool, she sighed as she lifted her eyes to look into Lucius' again.

"Because I don't want to go down on my own."

When Lucius didn't say a word, Hermione grew nervous and began to wonder if she was being even more stupid than she had thought herself capable of, but she was both surprised and greatly relieved when Lucius' stormy eyes lightened slightly and he gave a deep exhale of resignation.

"Being unable to stand alone and face whatever one must, only creates weaknesses, Miss Granger," Lucius told her gravely while Hermione nodded in acceptance of his advice.

"I know, I know," she said somewhat dismissively, "but just this time, I need some support."

"You always need support," Lucius muttered in mild exasperation as he turned in the doorway to accompany her downstairs, much to Hermione's inner relief, when he stopped abruptly after taking one small step. Not wanting to push her way through the door, Hermione waited behind him, still standing in between the room and the hallway outside, puzzled by his sudden halting.

"Is something wrong?" she asked when he remained standing still, seemingly unable to move.

"Apparently so," Lucius replied in what sounded to be an annoyed and impatient tone as he turned around and stepped back onto the threshold to the drawing room, looking around with scrutinising eyes. Hermione watched him with a frown, only to find the cause of the problem when he let out a low hiss of irritation as his eyes looked up at the innocent piece of Christmas decoration hanging above them on the lintel.

"Mistletoe," he stated flatly, glaring at the thin branch stuck on the doorframe above their heads.

"Oh no…" Hermione said slowly as horror overtook all her thoughts and she tried to back out of the door and escape the cringing scenario of being stuck under the doorway of mistletoe with someone like Lucius, but her dismay increased when she realised she couldn't move beyond a step on either side of the doorframe.

"Exactly my thoughts," Lucius said bitterly as he looked around for an escape. "And someone has been kind enough to charm the door so that we cannot move unless something dreadful happens."

"A catastrophe…" Hermione said in a hollow voice as the sheer idiocy of her circumstance struck her full on.

"Indeed," Lucius agreed as he tried reaching up to rip off the mistletoe, only to find his hand unable to breach the magic bubble that kept the branch safely stuck to the lintel.

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione groaned as her mind could come up with only one certain way to solve the predicament they found themselves in.

"I shall try and Apparate out," Lucius announced as he drew his wand and tried to turn on the spot, only to remain firmly on the ground, the power of the charmed mistletoe making it impossible for him to leave.

"Surely there's got to be another way! It can't be that difficult to get rid of the charm," Hermione said as she took out her own wand and pointed it at the mistletoe, trying several different spells, all to no avail.

"This is unbelievable," Lucius muttered in frustration as he tested the extent of his boundaries and was more than displeased by the resulting discoveries.

"Can't you use the Dark Arts or something?" Hermione asked thoughtlessly as her desperation clogged her thinking cogs.

"The Dark Arts?" Lucius repeated in mild surprise, raising his wand at the same time to point at the smug bough of charmed wood.

"Yes, yes," Hermione said dismissively as she prayed for some kind of way out that didn't involve any sort of indecent contact between herself and Lucius.

"What on earth?" Lucius muttered as he lowered his wand moments later, apparently having tried various non-verbal spells. "Nothing seems to work on this piece of tomfoolery."

"Are you sure? There must be something that can get rid of the charm! You know loads of spells; isn't there anything that might do the trick?" Hermione asked in an imploring tone as she preferred to beg, if it meant that he would come up with something that might get them out of the awkward situation.

"Of course; I am simply having a ball of a time standing here and feeling far too entertained to do anything useful," Lucius replied sarcastically while Hermione clamped her mouth tightly shut so that she wouldn't make any snappy retorts.

"Right; let's think things through calmly," Hermione said once she had taken a few deep breaths, speaking her thoughts out loud more to convince herself than Lucius. "We know that the charmed mistletoe can't be disarmed by the Dark Arts, clean spells or physical actions."

"That is, save for one action that is simply out of the question," Lucius pointed out while Hermione gave a nod of acknowledgement; there was no way they would be doing something so absurd as kissing in order to get themselves out of the problem.

"So, I think our best option is to call for help," Hermione stated resolutely while Lucius made a refined kind of snort that irritated Hermione as he openly undermined her logic.

"If you think I am going to have the Weasley vagrants find me like this, think again," he told her haughtily while Hermione couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes at him.

"We don't have any other choices!"

"I am sure there must be another way."

"Yes, but only if we're going to – you know," Hermione said with a fierce flush of colour on her cheeks as she felt oddly embarrassed to even say the right word in front of Lucius, who was looking at her with narrowed eyes again, his expression of calculation making Hermione all the more uneasy. She swallowed with some difficulty as she realised the line of thoughts that was passing through his mind and stood rigid on the other side of the fairly narrow doorway as she saw his lips settle in a thin line of distaste. Exasperated at his endless supply of unbeatable pride, Hermione leaned back against her side of the doorframe, eyes flickering over the stairwell as she hoped to hear footsteps. Glancing back to look at Lucius, Hermione wondered how good or bad things were between them. The arrogant mask that he was currently wearing reminded her all too strongly who he was supposed to be; Lucius Malfoy, pure-blood supremacist, father of Draco, old enough to be her father. It was therefore disturbing to think of him as anything but her unfortunate guardian, though a part of her wanted to point out that she wasn't feeling that disturbed by certain thoughts…

No, the problem was, that two streams of consciousness were raging inside Hermione, causing never-ending conflict and winding her up more than any of Lucius' taunts or prejudices. She was feeling awkward and embarrassed by the unspoken solution that could release them from their shared quandary, but strangely, another source of embarrassment for her was the fact that some part of her didn't mind doing what they might have to do to free themselves. It was a horrifying thought for the old Hermione, but the practicality of the deed was enough to convince the shadow Hermione that it wouldn't be that wrong. In fact, it might be necessary…

The sound of Lucius clearing his throat brought Hermione's wandering thoughts back to the present, and she looked up at his face which held a distinct expression of discomfort. With her thoughts still lingering on the general result of couples under the mistletoe, Hermione's eyes moved of their own will, taking in the sight of his pale, mercurial eyes, his slightly aquiline nose of aristocratic bearing, his pale red lips, the thinner upper lip forming a perfect Cupid's bow while the bottom half was slightly fuller. The sharpened slant of his cheekbones came down like pale plains, giving him a hardened, ruthless look that was such a deceiving mask. Hermione found her thoughts drifting as she stared at him with a tiny frown, wondering yet again, how it could be that someone could be so different and complex compared to what everyone else saw of them from the outside. Lucius continued to be an unsolvable puzzle to her…

"Miss Granger…"

Hermione looked up sharply at the sound of her name and gazed into his eyes that were looking at her with something akin to searching, or perhaps even questioning.

"Yes?" she prompted him in a quietened voice, her throat feeling somewhat constricted as tension restricted her body's natural grace.

"Though it be an incongruous thought, I was wondering…" he started in an uneasy drawl before tailing off, leaving Hermione blinking in confusion. Was he suggesting they…? She couldn't quite decide what he was trying to get at, for he seemed uncharacteristically flustered, though even that emotion was severely muted so that he was betrayed only by the anxious flickering of his eyes. Hermione was growing increasingly certain that she knew what he had in mind, but was afraid to jump to conclusions, knowing that it could get horribly embarrassing if she were to make the wrong assumptions. Not knowing quite what to do or say, she waited with panic ringing through her as her mind raced with thoughts.

"I was – I was wondering if…" Lucius tried again, looking extremely uncomfortable and on unfamiliar territory as he tried to articulate the thought which appeared to refuse cooperation. Hermione half-pitied him for the embarrassment he was obviously going through and so bravely trying to hide, but the pity extended to herself, as she was no better off. Looking at Lucius, she tried to tell him through her eyes, that she would do the impossible if he was actually willing to work together, and for a moment, she thought she might have seen some sort of recognition in his eyes, though the expression vanished as soon as it had come. There was a strange stilted silence as they both remained paused in mutual uncertainty, not knowing if the other was following the same train of thoughts. After another moment of frustrating indecisive hesitation, Hermione grew aggravated by the tension buzzing in the air between them and took a step towards him, watching his eyes widen slightly, but satisfied that he didn't make any other objection. She was standing directly in front of him, when footsteps suddenly sounded on the stairs, and the voice of Ginny scattered the thick threads of tension that had woven around the unnatural couple.

"Hermione!"

Hermione was aware in that moment, that the image of her and Lucius' closeness might make the wrong impression on the youngest Weasley and quickly took a step back from Lucius, sensing him letting out a long breath, much like her.

"We've been waiting for you," Ginny said as she looked at both Lucius and Hermione with hazel eyes that were narrowed in suspicion.

"Yes – um – well, I was on my way down, but as you can see, we've got stuck in a bit of a sticky situation," Hermione told her friend weakly, hoping she wasn't blushing too much.

"Oh no," Ginny said with a paling face. "Did George put a charm on the mistletoe?"

"Probably," Hermione said glumly, deliberately avoiding looking up at Lucius as she was afraid to be reminded of something that might have happened…

"You poor thing," Ginny said sympathetically, giving Lucius a mistrusting look as she took out her wand. "It will probably be one of George's special spells that he made specifically for his pranks. It's clever of him; you can't undo the charm with anything else except the direct reverse of the original spell."

"Do you know how to get rid of it?" Hermione asked with a spark of desperation in her pleading voice.

"I think so," Ginny said before frowning in concentration and silently performing a spell. Hermione felt a slight ripple of warm air around her as the charm dissolved and she gingerly stepped away from the doorway and into the hallway, testing out her regained freedom.

"Thanks so much, Gin," she said in better spirits when she realised she was completely free. Turning to face her friend, she caught sight of Lucius standing behind Ginny, and swallowed as his eyes caught hers in a look of warning. She had little trouble comprehending what he was silently saying to her; nothing happened and no one needs to know. Tilting her head ever so slightly in a subtle gesture of understanding she was certain Lucius would notice even if Ginny didn't, Hermione turned to her worried-looking friend and placated her.

"Don't worry. Everything's fine."

"Harry told me about your argument with Ron. Was he really that horrible?" Ginny asked quietly while Hermione paused as the thoughts of the dreadful argument filled her once again.

"Can we talk about it a bit later?" she said, deliberately gesturing towards Lucius with her eyes, while Ginny gave a fierce nod of understanding.

"Sure. Let's go down. Harry's having a fit, worrying about you," Ginny said as she turned and started down the last flight of stairs. Steeling herself, Hermione made to follow, only to have strong fingers curl a little painfully around her upper arm. Turning her face, she saw Lucius looking at her with one carefully raised blond brow.

"I hope you will not blame me for your ridiculous argument with the Weasley boy," he drawled in a tone of leisurely inquisitiveness while Hermione shook his hand off of her.

"Of course not," she replied with a frown, confused by his assumption of her dignity. "Why would I do that?"

"No reason," Lucius answered cryptically while Hermione remained baffled by both his answer and his smooth transition back to the serious, dark character that overcame him as soon as night fell. Shaking her head slightly at him, she started down the stairs, turning to look back when she heard him follow her in his even-measured, graceful gait. Surprised but pleased by his sticking to his pledge, Hermione led the way down onto the ground floor and towards the kitchen door which stood slightly ajar, hearing the sound of laughter and voices chatting pleasantly. She was about to push open the door and enter, when she realised that Lucius had stopped following her and was standing rigidly a few metres away from her down the hallway. Instinctively feeling an unexplainable concern, Hermione turned in her tracks and came back to stand before him, having guessed that he had got cold feet about meeting his once-enemies.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," Hermione told him softly, the faint light shed by a few gas lamps mounted along the grim walls tracing shadows across his face and illuminating his tightened jaw. Not wanting to force him or lay on any pressure, she gave a small shrug as she gestured towards the door.

"I can understand if you don't want to see them," she said, turning to look up at him and gouge his reaction.

"No," he said in a low, fierce tone of defiance. "I will see them."

Unsure whether he was simply forcing himself because he was afraid of admitting his weaknesses or because of something else, Hermione accepted with reluctance, feeling apprehensive at the future meeting of two households who had never been on good terms. Judging by the way Lucius attempted to cover his uncertainty with indifferent arrogance, Hermione supposed that she couldn't fault him for that, as the effort he was making was colossal and cancelled out any drawbacks he presented. Giving him a small smile as wordless, encouragement, Hermione led him forwards, taking her time to reach the door and enter, knowing that he would need time to summon the courage to tame his pride and adjust. When she stepped into the room, friendly faces welcomed her from the long kitchen table where everyone was sitting in amiable discussion, but Hermione didn't miss the change of expressions and atmosphere that flooded over the room as Lucius stepped into the room.

There was distinct lack of greetings as the senior Malfoy stood before the seated revellers, like an accused man before the judges. Hermione watched in a mixture of anxiety and admiration as Lucius held himself in all his regal glory, his expression showing his usual indifference, but only Hermione could guess the vast extent of his Herculean effort to appear calm and unperturbed by so many eyes upon him. Briefly glancing around the table, Hermione caught sight of the various faces and realised that there was a mingled reaction from her friends. Harry and Ginny mainly looked surprised by Lucius' appearance, but the rest of the Weasleys and Neville looked shocked and somewhat resentful. Trying to ease the unbearable strain running through the length of the room like an electrified current, Hermione cleared her throat and made a brave attempt to break the thick ice that had settled over everyone.

"Um – I'm sure you all know Mr Malfoy," she started in a slightly quivering voice, distracted by all the eyes turning towards her as she grew increasingly nervous. "I hope none of you mind if he joins us."

There was a moment of hesitation as no one made any move to welcome Lucius, and Hermione grew desperate, but breathed out in relief when Harry stood up and set the wanted example.

"Merry Christmas, Mr Malfoy."

Lucius accepted the greeting with a polite incline of his head as he returned it, "And to you too."

Giving a look of immense gratitude to Harry, Hermione ushered Lucius forwards to a seat at the end of the table, sitting down beside him and Ginny, who gave Lucius a nod of acknowledgement, but couldn't quite hide her scowl. The others gradually made some sort of stilted gesture of acceptance, and though the welcome wasn't a wild success, Hermione was satisfied with the outcome, as it was great in its own way. She was all the more glad when conversation picked up again, and soon, everyone was chatting once again. Bill and Fleur were sitting opposite her, and she could tell Bill was trying his best not to be judgemental and even exchanged a few words with Lucius, but Fleur didn't seem quite so adept at forgiveness, for she occasionally shot nasty glances at Lucius covertly, making Hermione want to grind her teeth in annoyance at the other girl's narrow-mindedness. However, she was distracted from her growing annoyance at the part-Veela witch as the other end of the table burst out in laughter, and her attention was temporarily captured by the warming sight of George, Neville, Harry and Mr Weasley holding their sides as they lost themselves in their mirth.

She was drawn back to Ginny when the younger witch waved a hand before Hermione's face in order to get her attention.

"Hello? Hermione?"

"Sorry, Ginny. I'm right here," Hermione apologised as she focused on her red-haired friend with determined concentration.

"I just asked you if you're feeling alright," Ginny said impatiently while Hermione waved off her concern with lazy gesture of her hand.

"I'm fine, Ginny," she reassured her friend, aware that the redhead was fixing her with a stern gaze. "I'm actually really happy right now."

"That's good," Ginny remarked in a voice of brusque approval.

"Where's Luna and everyone else?"

"She had to go home," Ginny explained with a shrug. "And Kingsley had to go because of his incredible workload or something, and Mrs Tonks had to take Teddy back as he was too tired."

"Are you staying the night?" Hermione asked, half-hoping Ginny would say yes, while partly wishing that she would decline.

"Not tonight," Ginny said with a sigh. "Harry's told everyone that we're to leave after we've opened all the presents and stuff. He doesn't want to suffocate you with too much company at once."

"Oh, but I love all your company!" Hermione exclaimed in surprise, truly meaning her words as she glanced around at all her friends.

"I know, but don't worry; we'll visit again soon," Ginny said as she gave Hermione a one-armed hug. "For now, we'll make do by opening our presents," she said with a grin before raising her voice to address the rest of the rowdy group. "Hey! Everyone! It's present-opening time!"

There were cheers and a general consensus of agreement as Mrs Weasley, who was seated beside her husband further down the table, Summoned the considerable mound of wrapped parcels from beneath the Christmas tree and sent all the packages zooming towards their respective receivers. Amidst coos and exclamations of delight, the presents stacked themselves in neat piles before their future owners as voices rose in excited chatter. From beside Hermione, Ginny gave a cry of joy as she unwrapped a set of lovely hunter green robes which went beautifully with her vivid red hair. Hermione smiled as Ginny thanked her and appeared greatly happy with her present while from all around the table, people exchanged thanks and comments. Turning her attention to her own pile of presents, Hermione carefully unwrapped them all and glowed with joy at the wonderful collection of interesting books that would make brilliant additions to her own personal library, some enchanting silver earrings shaped like teardrops with a pearl hanging in the hollows of each, a box of expensive eagle quills and a tempting set of pampering lotions and shampoo.

Time passed quickly as they all celebrated and gloated over their gifts, everyone having been given a Weasley jumper as tradition dictated, and by the time Harry stood up and announced that it was getting late, everyone was in an obliging mood, feeling dozy and more than content, having been stuffed with delicious Christmas dinner. With several more jokes and tales, the Christmas celebrators rose slowly out of their chairs and made ready to leave for their own homes. As they were pulling on their coats and hats and packing up their presents, Hermione stood up at the same time as Lucius, who seemed more than relieved at the thought of an empty house. Catching his eye, Hermione gave him a questioning look of concern, only to have him give her a tight smile in response. Having no option but to be satisfied with his limited expressiveness, Hermione passed him by to usher her guests towards the front door. Just as everyone was ready to go and had gathered by the kitchen door to leave, eyes were drawn towards Mr Weasley as he approached Lucius with a resolute look upon his thin, bespectacled face. The tension that reappeared in the room was felt by everyone, as breaths were held. Hermione curled her hands in tight fists as she watched the two wizards come face to face, and predicted something terrible to be the outcome.

Everyone watched as Mr Weasley drew himself to his full height, and stared Lucius straight in the eyes, his mouth set firmly as his hands flexed by his sides. Hermione silently prayed that nothing bad would happen, and clung to the hope that Lucius had changed enough to refrain from hexing Mr Weasley. She was sure she wasn't the only one who flinched slightly as Mr Weasley suddenly thrust his hand forwards, but the surprise in the onlookers' whispers was evident as they all stared at Mr Weasley offering his hand for a shake. Lucius appeared mildly surprised by the gesture, and for a moment, did nothing but stare at the proffered hand of the other man, before he reluctantly raised his own and took a firm grip of Mr Weasley's hand.

"Merry Christmas, Lucius," Mr Weasley ground out grudgingly through clenched teeth while Hermione felt her thoughts melting in a moment of pure sentimentality, overwhelmed by the power of the moment as the two enemies officially set aside their differences to share in the Christmas spirit. From behind her, she heard George muttering, "Blimey…" and Mrs Weasley gasping out, "Oh, my!" Unable to suppress the wide smile, Hermione turned to Harry who was standing beside her and was met by his grin as he glanced at her before turning to look back at Lucius and Arthur.

"Arthur…" Lucius drawled in reply as they shook hands and swiftly let go, both looking immensely glad that the moment was over. Mr Weasley turned away from the indifferent Malfoy without another word and hurried towards his waiting family, giving them a sheepish smile as they looked at him with incredulous expressions.

"Come on, kids," Mr Weasley said as he shooed them out of the door and down the hallway. "Let's go home and give poor Hermione some space!"

The high level of mirth was quickly restored as the front door opened and the Weasleys plus Harry and Neville all trooped out, calling out final words of farewell as they all walked past the black iron railings and Disapparated into the dark night. Once she had seen the last of her friends disappear, Hermione stepped back inside and closed and locked the front door, feeling as though she had just closed a chapter of her life and she was back to the simple solitary existence she had become more and more used to.

Coming back into the kitchen, she found Lucius standing by the fireplace, warming himself as he gazed thoughtfully into the golden flames, eyes glazed over in thought. Instinctively fetching the bottle of Firewhisky and a glass tumbler, Hermione quietly came to stand beside him, calmly going about pouring the drink as she felt his eyes on her. When the glass was substantially full, she silently offered it to him, and she couldn't resist the pull of his gaze and raised her eyes to meet his as he took the glass, the tips of his cool fingers brushing against her own and leaving her skin tingling from the cold contact against her warm hands.

She watched with muted fascination as Lucius found a measure of peace in his drink, setting down the glass on the mantelpiece once he was finished and not making a move to refill it. Hermione placed the lightened bottle of Firewhisky beside the glass and stood with her hands clasped together as she enjoyed the softened silence that brought about tranquil within her after a day of madness and emotional upheavals. Lucius seemed to share her relief at the calm, for he did nothing to disturb the quietude, but continued to direct his gaze into the bright flames as he stood with his hands folded behind his back.

Hermione found herself thinking over the events of the day, and went from inwardly cringing at the memory of a demonic Ron to wilting at the thought of her depression, then to wincing at the unbearable awkwardness that she and Lucius had had to suffer with the mistletoe problem. She wondered if he was thinking about it at all, and secretly glanced at him, taking in the sight of his well-carved profile that was neither perfect nor beautiful, but handsome in its own masculine way. With her eyes lingering on the lines of his lips, Hermione thought back to the moment when they had actually arrived at a decision that could have ended with disastrous results.

Had he really suggested that they kiss in order to free themselves of the charmed – cursed, in Hermione's opinion – mistletoe? Or had she just interpreted the meanings in his words all wrong? Thinking about it logically, it seemed far too unlikely that Lucius would make such a forward suggestion, as he truly wasn't someone who did anything outside of their comfort zone, and Hermione was dead certain that kissing someone like her was definitely not familiar ground to him. Unable to control the blush that spread across her cheeks, Hermione felt paranoid that he would notice her growing discomfort at recalling memories that were more like hallucinations. Taking another quick glance at her silent companion, she felt a small swell of satisfaction that he hadn't noticed her at all, but felt her nerves ignite in a feverish dance as he suddenly turned his face to look at her, and his baritone voice stirred the listlessness between them.

"Do you consider the Weasley boy as something more than a friend?"

Hermione stared at him for a moment, the unexpected nature of his question catching her unaware. She grew uncomfortable at discussing her love life with Lucius, but tried to hide her unease with nonchalance as she made her laconic reply.

"I don't know."

"I think you do," Lucius countered in his questioning drawl as he turned a little more so that he was facing her fully.

"Why would you want to know?" Hermione asked with a quiet sigh, giving up on trying to appear indifferent; she just couldn't pull it off like Lucius managed with such natural ease.

"I am merely curious," Lucius replied casually as he glanced away from her towards the fire. "I find it to be a point of little sense."

"Probably because you don't understand the feeling of love," Hermione said with a light shrug as she wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the cold edging around her.

"Perhaps," Lucius conceded with a slight nod. "But you will not deny me an explanation, will you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione sighed at the soft yet skilful manipulation of his words, acknowledging the fact that both of them knew she wouldn't fail to do as he asked, no matter how much she wanted to resist and be in control. Still, she knew she wouldn't win as he had figured her out too well, and he would use her strengths to his own advantage. Feeling too tired to make a fuss, she obliged with barely a hint of reluctance, having wanted someone to talk to about everything between herself and Ron anyways. She had wanted to discuss it with Ginny, as she had always been her confidante, but Hermione could barely find the strength to defy the alluring gleam of Lucius' inquisitive eyes and gave in without a struggle.

"I've known Ron for so long now, loving him as something more than a friend seems to be like the next step," she said, finding it difficult to describe her relationship and feelings clearly in mere words. "I'm not sure why or how it happened, but that's just the way it is now."

"Surely, there must be something between you that connects you in some way?" Lucius asked in what seemed to be a tone of genuine puzzlement, causing Hermione to sigh for the hundredth time as she tried to sort things out in her head. Surprisingly, voicing them out loud was helping her think clearer, and since Lucius was willing to listen, she had no qualms about telling him anything, as she couldn't think how her personal feelings could be used to his advantage.

"I guess we've just known each other for so long, that it doesn't matter that we're so different," Hermione said as she remembered all the times she had thought she would die of boredom as Ron obsessed over Quidditch. "I'm just so used to him and we get on so well, that – I don't know… Maybe we just thought it would be nice to be with someone we would have always found easy to get on with. But actually…that isn't love really…"

"Then you do not love him?" Lucius questioned with a slight frown that pulled his fine brows together.

"I really don't know," Hermione admitted as she gazed unseeingly into the fire, her head reeling with thoughts. "I do, but I don't."

"Yet he is a life companion to you?"

"I suppose so. I'm sure you've got something like that with your wife," Hermione said as she turned to look at him. "You might not love her, but you still care for her. Ron and I are the same, and that's still a kind of love."

"But you are lonely," Lucius told her matter-of-factly, while Hermione didn't try and hide her agreement or deny it.

"Yes."

"Are you afraid of being alone?" Lucius asked in a tone of mild intrigue, while Hermione forgot the finer details such as who he was and who she was, as her mind instinctively churned out answers to his prompting.

"I'm afraid of being lonely," Hermione confessed quietly as a melancholic mood swept over her. "Everyone else has their happy endings. I don't want to be the only one to be without it."

"What makes you think being alone is so terrible?"

Hermione looked up into his unfathomable eyes as she pondered the question thoughtfully. After several seconds of searching, she found an answer that seemed the most explaining.

"Because I don't love myself enough to survive on my own."

Lucius gave a nod as he mulled over her answer and eyed the marble decorations of the mantelpiece with absent-minded interest. Feeling more certain at having spoken her mind and made her decisions on what she was feeling, Hermione stared at the wall in front of her as she made her final conclusion on the matter.

"I loved Ron and I still do, but I think it was only a dream."

"Perhaps," Lucius drawled noncommittally while Hermione turned to look at him questioningly. He tilted his face towards her to meet her gaze, and there was a slight smile resting lightly on his lips as he divulged a truth of his in a rare moment of honesty.

"But it is these dreams that make our lives all the more fulfilling."

Hermione made no reply, but made her agreement by her silence. Her attention began slipping as dejection slowly smothered her spirit and slowed down everything in her to match the lethargic pace of her rising depression. In the peaceful silence, she stood very much alone, together with Lucius, finding solace in the loneliness they shared.


	16. XVI

35\. The Question Not Asked

Night had a way of evoking a detached, pensive mood in Hermione as she reviewed the unnaturally vast amount of emotions thrown about in a single day. Sitting in an armchair and staring unseeingly into the flames that leapt in the kitchen fireplace, her mind was like a thoroughfare of notions as they passed by in beckoning whispers, tempting her curiosity with their evasiveness, but her weary heart refusing the offer. Making a half-hearted attempt to analyse herself, Hermione felt another wave of dejection as she felt herself slip into misery, aware of the fault of allowing herself to internally collapse, but in no spirit to restore herself. After all, without love, she felt empty, broken, lifeless. It sounded melodramatic even in her opinion, but it was simply the truth. When love was so harshly ripped away from her, her foundations crumbled.

She could feel the voracious whirl of mixed emotions swirling angrily inside her, but she couldn't find a way to let it all out. The suppression was doing little to help her in any way, but she was at a loss on what else to do. Lucius had disappeared upstairs after murmuring some excuse Hermione didn't even catch, and the feeling of loneliness intensified a hundredfold as she was left completely alone. She had never felt so isolated before; she had always had someone to talk to or be with whenever she was in need of company. Now, however, things were different. It was almost amusing how ironic the situation had become, and though it was painful to even think it, Hermione managed to crack a dark, weary smile at her own misfortune.

She felt like she was laughing in the face of death, or perhaps her own weakness. She had always known there was a part of her that was insecure, but had never known how to remedy it. She had always been afraid of rejection, and that fear had driven her to yoke herself up to prove her own worth, throwing herself into study; one of the only things she felt herself to be truly talented at. Thinking about it, Hermione couldn't find many things about herself that were either appealing or able to be considered a virtue. She had once called people like Lucius horrible, terrible wrongdoers, but she could now see the foolishness of her accusations. How could she judge anyone else for their supposed wrongs when she, herself, was no better off?

Hermione guessed it was a question of faith and loyalty, but could find no evidence in her memories to back this new theory up. She had given everything, everything, to the world of magic that had opened its doors to her, and she had given everything to secure a little piece for herself. She had done all she could to prove herself a good friend and an admirable witch, but where had the profit from her great investment gone? Probably to Hell, Hermione thought darkly as she felt bitterness sour her usually optimistic personality. She certainly felt like she had fallen into a hell; for hell was in its simplest essence, a life without love. It was foolish to permit herself to linger in this hell, but Hermione felt tired of always being the good one, always living up to others' expectations, always being Hermione. There was no rule that banned her from exploring the realms she had been previously forbidden from. Why couldn't she just let herself live in hell for once? After all, no one else seemed to be able to understand enough to help, and until that day, she would try sitting back and waiting for someone besides herself to offer a little initiative.

Silently remarking on her own line of thoughts, Hermione smiled weakly as she thought she would probably be waiting for several centuries, at this rate. As much as she prized her friends and family, she was weary of always giving, giving, giving. For once, she wanted to be able to stand still and not have to worry about if Harry was in trouble, or if Ron had remembered to put the finely shredded Boomslang skin into the potion he was supposed to be brewing for work. For once, she just wanted to close her eyes and fall into an eternal sleep…

A rough shaking of her shoulder wakened Hermione, and she blinked blearily as she looked around herself to see that she was still sitting at one end of the long kitchen, although it was now cold as the fire had gone out. So much for eternal sleep, she thought, feeling disgruntled and disappointed before her ever present logic pointed out that people weren't generally known to fall asleep and never wake up, unless they were already at death's door.

"You should go to your own room if you wish to sleep," a familiar voice was saying from somewhere above Hermione as she sluggishly straightened up to look over at Lucius, who appeared as indifferent as ever.

"I'm too tired," she complained as an excuse as she drew her legs up to curl into a ball in the cosy armchair. "I'll just stay here tonight."

"You will do no such thing," Lucius told her sternly, while Hermione felt the urge to roll her eyes, but did nothing except crack open an eye to look at him.

"Why not? Am I breaking any laws by wanting to simply sleep in an armchair?" she countered sleepily while Lucius seemed to grow irritated by her stubbornness.

"It is not wise for you to remain here all alone," Lucius replied curtly while Hermione did her best to suppress a yawn that forced its way out regardless.

"Well, you're invited to stay," Hermione muttered as she closed her eyes and prepared to go back to the far pleasanter state of being unconscious. She gave a slight yelp when hands roughly took hold of her arms and sharply pulled her out of her chair, her unexpected situation of having to stand causing her legs to buckle in uncertainty, stumbling into the soft expanse of robes that covered Lucius. Sleep left her quickly enough as she regained her footing and stepped back slightly so that her face wasn't pressed into his shoulder as it had been moments ago. Feeling both annoyed and embarrassed, Hermione attempted to glare at him, but almost immediately gave up when she failed to conjure up the expression right. Lucius, who had been watching her with unfazed preparedness, simply gave her a patronising look reserved for usage strictly by smug elders.

Hermione felt his hands release her as soon as she was standing upright, but when she made a move to suggest she was going to sit back down, his hands shot out to her and gripped her ruthlessly, causing a slight jab of pain as his iron fingers restrained her.

"No; you are going upstairs," Lucius corrected her, much to Hermione's added irritation, before he proved his point by swinging her around and forcing her to walk forwards, one hand always gripping her elbow as he manoeuvred her around the long table and out the kitchen to accost the dark hallway and the stairs.

From out of nowhere, Hermione began to feel the horrible familiarity of fear that enhanced her senses and prickled them with taunting dread. Her palms became sweaty as she led the way into the darkness, the only light coming faintly from the next floor, coating the stairs in a dim gold. She caught the sound of whispers as she walked, the eerie, hushed voices reminding her of those long dead and sending shivers down her back. The only thing that she was sure was keeping her from falling prey to the monsters of her cursed imagination, was the presence of Lucius as he followed her at a close pace. Though it was only his fingers that were in contact with her, Hermione's heightened senses could feel the calming protectiveness of his aura, as though he were a Patronus for her to use to keep away her fears.

When she paused by the foot of the stair to look down the dark hallway with scrutinising eyes to find any visible evidence of whatever it was that was haunting her, Hermione felt Lucius come around her like a shield, never touching her, but his very presence smothering her in a warmth that reminded her of life.

"You will see nothing," Lucius told her quietly, as though he did not wish to disturb the volatile silence of the darkness and wake a monstrosity that slumbered uneasily beneath.

Accepting his fact, Hermione took to the stairs with quick steps, her dislike of something following her as she ascended multiplied by her vulnerable state. Even though she knew it was only Lucius behind her, following with a considerable gap between them she noticed, it did little to calm her jumping nerves. It was with great relief that she arrived at the first floor, the gas lamps mounted on the walls providing a sallow light that was somewhat comforting, despite the glum tone of their light. Feeling her fear prowling around her, Hermione waited for Lucius to catch up, which he did in a few swift strides, before continuing on the last leg of the passage to her room, which had turned more into a journey of sorts.

They ascended the next staircase in a similar fashion, and before long, were standing outside the door to Hermione's room. It had been several days since the last time Lucius had watched over her during the night, and Hermione wasn't sure if he would continue that habit or not. Feeling defeated by her own misery, Hermione decided she would accept whatever would come and entered the dark room, hurrying to light the candle on the bedside table with her wand. The sight of her comfortable bed made her feel sleepy again, and she reached over to pull back the bed covers and made to slide beneath them. She paused however, when a hand gently caught hold of her upper arm and lightly restrained her.

"You will ruin your robes," Lucius said softly in explanation as Hermione remained facing away from him, too drained of energy to care either way.

"I don't really care," she murmured as she pulled her arm free and turned to sit on her bed.

"You will care in the morning," Lucius pointed out in a slightly more firm tone as he stood before her, the limited light of the candle throwing one half of his face into the shadows.

"I doubt it," Hermione said with a shrug as she leaned back and lay down amongst the cold sheets, pulling the covers up to her chin while Lucius exhaled a little louder than usual; a clear indication of his impatience.

"The world is not over, Miss Granger," she heard him reprimand her as she rolled onto her side so that her back was to him. "Just because you are experiencing an ungainly amount of emotions."

Unable to let him be so harsh and unsympathetic, Hermione cursed herself for taking his bait as she rolled back to face him. "I don't think you can understand how I'm feeling, so don't try," she told him insolently, irritated by the veiled look of triumph that appeared across the half of his face that was illuminated.

"I have never attempted to understand how you are feeling," he replied lazily as he drew up his usual chair at the bedside and sat down.

"Then why all the interrogation?" Hermione asked despite the sleep that threatened to seal her eyes.

"I find it…interesting to discover what you are," Lucius explained in a thoughtful voice that only added to Hermione's nocturnal lullaby that was formed from the sounds of the creaking house.

"I'm not a different species from you, you know," she murmured between a yawn.

"I have been made aware of that," Lucius admitted, his unexpected acceptance causing Hermione to fight to keep awake just that little bit more.

"You have?"

"Miss Granger, surely the topic of our different views of the world has become old news by now? I do not think your constant surprise at my words are warranted when I have proved myself to be capable of acceptance, more than some. Is that not true?" Lucius said in his intellectual prose, making their conversation sound as though they were in a completely different setting, when in reality, Hermione was still huddled up in bed while he was sitting with his legs loosely crossed on an old chair next to her. The oddness of the circumstance made Hermione pause in thought as she considered everything.

"Yes, I suppose…" she said vaguely as her thoughts wandered back to earlier in the evening, when they had been caught under the charmed mistletoe. To call that moment awkward would be an understatement, in Hermione's opinion. Even now, she couldn't believe she had actually been prepared to kiss Draco Malfoy's father. Had she done so, she was sure she could justify herself by using the damned mistletoe as an excuse, but a part of her wondered if that could even be used as a pretext when deep inside, she knew there were other reasons. Dismissing all the rising notions on her questionable sanity, Hermione took apart Lucius' reaction at her intentions, and was more confused by what she could remember. He had looked genuinely surprised by her bold suggestion, but it wasn't his blatant astonishment that struck Hermione as unusual. It was more the fact that he hadn't made any sort of move to object or stop her from doing something that would have changed everything…

"Are you even listening to me, Miss Granger?"

"Hmm? What?" Hermione said as she was pulled out of her reverie by his sharp tone. Looking up at his face that was now bathed entirely in the golden glow of the candle, Hermione hoped she wasn't blushing too noticeably.

"I thought as much," Lucius said disapprovingly while Hermione struggled to recall anything he had just said. "It is evident I am wasting my time with any talk."

"No, no!" Hermione said quickly, not wanting him to close up again. She was lonely enough as it was without her close ones. She feared that she would melt away into nonexistence, should even Lucius stop talking to her.

"Please, do continue," Hermione softly implored him as she looked up at him. "I'll listen. I promise."

"Such promises are made in vain," Lucius said dismissively while Hermione began thinking of various ways to prove her sincerity to him. "Besides, I have no need for any promises from you. What are they to me?"

Hermione stared at him, taken aback by his candour that revealed perhaps more than she was supposed to know. From the way he looked back at her with mild indifference, she assumed that he hadn't intentionally shaped the comment to sound so hurtful, but it was this accidental slip of tongue that showed the state of his trust in her, or lack of, to Hermione. She couldn't help feel a stab of hurt as the last person she had for a companion threw all the effort she had made back in her face. She had thought that perhaps they had reached a level of truce and even a certain amount of trust, but maybe she had been wrong, just like she seemed to have been wrong about Ron…

"Good night," she said quickly before her voice could betray any of her inner turmoil and turned over onto her other side to hide her face from Lucius, determined not to alert him to her enormous weaknesses. Clenching the top of the covers with her fists and trying her best not to let the tears escape from beneath her lids, Hermione attempted to fall asleep, but the badgering tiredness that had been there only moments ago, had vanished with the first bubble of anguish. Trying to keep her breathing even, Hermione hoped that Lucius would simply assume that he was not needed or wanted in the room and leave, but she began to fret when she continued to hear the quiet, steady pattern of his breathing.

She squeezed her eyes closed tighter as she heard a soft rustle of robes as he presumably rose from the chair, but she quickly opened them when she felt the bed dip down slightly beside her. Her thoughts froze in uncertainty as she took in the sight of Lucius perching on the edge of the bed, gazing at her with his intense, calculating eyes that glittered in the low light. Hermione was unable to think clearly as alarm, anxiety and astonishment overwhelmed her crackling nerves, leaving her to simply stare back at him in wide-eyed apprehension. She was aware of her watery eyes that were lined with her first tears, but she forgot to cry as she watched and waited for Lucius to do something.

When he slowly leaned forwards and reached out a hand towards her face, Hermione's mind was suddenly swamped with wild ideas and nervous thrill, but she was mostly glad when all he did was lightly wipe away the slight trail of tears down her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. She instinctively closed her eyes when he touched her face, opening them only when she heard him draw back slightly to a safe distance once more. The rest of the room was lost to her consideration as all Hermione could focus on was the unusual expression on Lucius as he continued to gaze at her. It was an expression that didn't seem quite right on the face of Lucius Malfoy, ex-Death Eater, but Hermione half-supposed it could suit him, were he to express his more humanistic side. Wrapped up in her confusion and entranced by the way his eyes seemed to regard her with pure curiosity and concern, Hermione almost forgot to breathe as she lay rigid with tension. When Lucius eventually spoke, his lowered, reflective voice struck her in a bout of surprise that had her speechless for a moment longer.

"Why would you throw your life away for love?" he mused out loud, making Hermione wonder if he was actually speaking to her, or himself. "How can Weasley's affection mean so much to you, that when he severs your ties to him, you lose all life?"

Hermione stared at him as she thought about his questions, realising that she really wasn't any more knowing of answers than he was. All she knew was that she had loved Ron, and love was her only explanation.

"Why would you want to throw your life away for someone else?" Lucius continued when she said nothing, his voice a quiet, pensive drawl as he continued to sit beside her. "Why would you do such a thing when you know one day, it will break you?"

"I can't explain it," Hermione replied in a hushed whisper as she stared into his eyes that seemed to draw her in.

"I have known several people who were supremely intelligent, yet they made the most foolish decision of love," Lucius remarked while Hermione guessed Snape was probably the main example he was thinking of.

"You love your son yet you can't explain it. It's like that," Hermione said while Lucius's eyes flickered away to watch the swaying shadow on the wall behind the lone candle, his brow pulled down slightly in a frown.

"But it is different. Draco is my blood; my heir; my creation," Lucius murmured as he continued to look perplexed. "Had I been given the choice, I would not have wished for such close bond to him."

"Then what would be the point?" Hermione asked in muted incredulity, unable to accept the fact that Lucius would have never loved his son, had it been his choice.

"I would have been able to live my life without constant concern," Lucius replied lightly, while Hermione sat up so that her back was resting against the headboard of the bed, wishing to illustrate the crucial importance of love to Lucius, but feeling unable to convey it if she remained lying down.

"But if you hadn't loved Draco, then how else would you have known any happiness?" Hermione asked in hushed voice that still managed to sound indignant, despite the softened tone.

"My happiness resides in my existence," Lucius replied simply. "I am grateful for even having that."

"So, would you stop loving Draco now, just because you think love to be a – a weakness?" Hermione pressed on in a weak husk of her former fiery glory, unable to produce an impressive amount of defiance when she felt weak and lacking of life.

"I cannot stop, nor would I choose to stop caring for my son," Lucius told her with a touch of pride as he obviously considered his son. "But I would never let myself fall into the state that you have reached."

"Oh, so it's all about me," Hermione sighed in defeat as she slumped in her seat. "I'm the one who's an exception to the rule of existence because I'm an oddity who supposedly doesn't have a drop of magical blood within them, yet does have magic."

"I never suggested such a thing," Lucius countered in a sombre manner that immediately dampened Hermione's rising sarcasm.

"Then just what are you trying to say?" Hermione asked in exhaustion as she watched his eyes narrow in thought.

"Your belief of love puzzles me. I merely wish to know why on earth you would wish to follow such a thing when it appears to be doing you little good," Lucius said in words he seemed to have thought over with care.

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione asked with another sigh, before she realised that she could hardly expect someone like Lucius to be familiar with the concept of conscious love when he was so clearly averse to the idea of it. Seeing that he wasn't going to answer that particular question of hers, Hermione breathed deeply for several moments as she gathered her thoughts and began her best attempt at explaining.

"Love isn't something that you can be certain of; it's so…unpredictable and can come as a surprise, but it's impossible to not like the feeling of love," she said slowly as she tried to articulate her thoughts into words to explain something that had no verbal explanations. Love was love; there were no words in any language to do it justice. "It's the thought of being cherished forever and the feeling of unexplainable joy. You can't really understand love through words; you just have to…feel it, I guess."

"It does not sound terribly beneficial," Lucius remarked as his eyes looked up to catch her gaze again.

"It's hard to say what it is exactly until you've felt it," Hermione said noncommittally with a slight shrug. "Love is love; that's all there is to it."

"I recall you telling me that love is like the spark of light before darkness falls and you suffer the backlash of binding yourself to another being," Lucius said in slow, carefully-picked words as he waited for her to react. "I think I replied that I would ask you what you thought about it when you were sitting in that darkness."

"Yes, you did," Hermione affirmed with a jerky little nod as she felt her throat constrict in what was definitely the coming onslaught of sobs that would probably choke her. She could tell from the way he spoke, that Lucius was fully aware of her situation and would probably want to gloat and mock her for having been so passionate about something when she had still been happy and unharmed.

"I wish to ask you now; where has your precious belief in love left you?"

Hermione didn't answer as the first wave of tears came, causing her body to shudder involuntarily as the raw pain of her grief gripped her, crushing her mercilessly and twisting a knife in her heart as all the anguish she had been keeping at bay broke past the wall she had put up and swamped her in her wretchedness. As the dams that had kept out the suffering inside her collapsed, the tears flowed out of her eyes freely, blinding her temporarily, though Hermione in her moment of hysteria wished she would be blinded for life as she had no wish to see the rest of the world which had turned so ugly in that moment. Lucius hadn't spoken the words in a voice that hinted to the slightest bit of malignancy, but it was more the honest tone in his deceptive manner that was her undoing. No one and nothing had ever crushed her dream so successfully before, and in her writhing bitterness, she hated fate for choosing her as a victim; she hated her parents for not being able to fully understand her; she hated Dumbledore for planting such disastrous seeds of thought in her mind; she hated Harry for being so infuriatingly good and pure; she hated Ron for abandoning her…

However, her anger began to evaporate as her distress settled in and claimed any energy left within her, making her immediately regret having even thought such horrible things about those she treasured most. Amidst the flowing tears, the shredded heart and the undying pain, Hermione knew that deep down, it was all her doing. It was her fault that she had done what she had done and believed what she had believed. All she wanted to do now was to die…

"Where is the due payment that the likes of Weasley owe you for everything you have done for them?" Lucius said eventually, when her sobbing had quietened down and she had degenerated to a state of ragged breathing, her heart lying fractured in jagged shards while her mind had been swept clean by despair. She didn't even have the strength to react when she felt him lean a little closer as his cool fingers gently traced her jaw line.

"Why did you trust them so?" Lucius asked in a low murmur while Hermione clenched her eyes shut and grimaced in inner agony. "Why did you love him?" he said in an even quieter whisper, his voice reminding her of a snake as it whispered words into her ear. Words that were so tempting to believe, but were in truth, poison…

"Because if I can't love, I can't live," she breathed out as she kept her eyes closed, relishing the darkness of her vision as she let herself drift on the current of sadness, willing to let go of everything and let herself be claimed by life or death, whichever came first to her rescue. She waited for what seemed to be a long time before it became apparent that life would not give her up quite yet as Lucius' hands lightly curved around to support her shoulders as he lowered her into a prostrate position. Hermione allowed him to lay her down, not opening her eyes once, even when she felt the bed rise as he stood up, determined not to see whatever expression he was wearing or the way she imagined his eyes to glimmer.

"Believe me, you will learn to live, Miss Granger," his voice sounded quietly from above her while Hermione simply buried herself in the warmth of the bed covers. "Get some sleep," she heard him say as his final command before the sound of his heeled boots clicked softly across the wooden floor and the door opened and closed. Hermione continued to lie with her eyes fused shut, curled up in a foetal position as she tried to fill the hole of nothingness inside her. In the darkness of her mind, she couldn't help wishing in her desperate loneliness for someone to hold her in silent comfort. She couldn't help wishing that Lucius would come back and give her the solace her soul needed and craved. She couldn't help wishing that he would hold her tightly to save her from her agony…

 

Lucius sighed as he stood in the middle of his room, casting his eye upon all the silhouetted details of the furniture wearily. Using only the light of the rounded moon outside to illuminate the room, Lucius approached the large bed that took up a good measure of the room and slowly sat down on it, feeling the mattress sink a little from under his weight. His head was whirling with theories and memories and he could feel a dull ache from his mind overtaxing itself. To give himself some distraction, he leaned forwards so that his elbows were resting on his knees and studied his hands in the moonlight, wondering how he could be who he was.

The Granger girl had pointed out that he loved his son unconditionally, and that was something that Lucius was both proud of and faulted at the same time. Draco was of his making; someone he had created, and Lucius was fully aware that he would willingly go to hell and back if it meant his son would be provided for. There was no limit to what he would do to ensure his precious heir's happiness and wellbeing; he knew that because he had proved it when the Dark Lord had begun to threaten his family. It was his duty as a father to protect his son, but Lucius knew that it hadn't simply been a sense of obligation that had made him drop all pretences and actually grovel at his former master's feet in order to save Draco. He was sure there was more to that instinct than mere duty…but how could he, Lucius Malfoy, beloved of only himself, be capable of caring for anyone else?

He had spent too many years with only himself for company, and that was all he knew. Of course, there was Narcissa, whom he was close with and affectionate of for being someone who was after his own heart, but love was a word Lucius would never have chosen to classify the companionship between him and his wife. They were soul mates; the very mirror of each other, but that didn't mean there was love in the equation. Love involved passion, and neither Lucius nor Narcissa had the passion for each other. They had always been aware that the other had fallen in love with something else long before any union between them. Lucius answered to his beloved power; Narcissa had her precious independence. Whatever relationship they had formed over time, was based on pure respect and trust, and sealed by the arrival of their son.

No, Lucius knew he would not find anything more about love if he looked into the intricacies of his family ties, but perhaps if he looked beyond the blood circle there could be something…

Sitting up straight and staring at the peaceful moon hanging in the dark sky, Lucius began to worry that he was being manipulated yet again by some unexpected source. He hated being out of control, and the newly formed obsession of his to unravel the mystery of Granger, was not helping in the least. He didn't even want to admit it to himself, but the truth simply could not be denied as he sat alone in complete privacy, safe from unwanted ears or eyes. Taking a moment to compose himself, Lucius silently made his confession to the world.

He felt out of depth.

It sounded so simple and laughable, but Lucius could find nothing amusing about the situation. Throughout his life, he had always strived to conquer with each stride, abolishing anything that wasn't familiar to him and crushing those he did not understand. His prejudice against Muggles and Muggleborns had been of his own creation; after all, he had been encouraged to disfavour them, but never had he actually been forced to hate them like he had. He had reached that belief on his own, fuelled by what he could now call ignorance.

He wanted to wince at that word, for his insufferable pride loathed the term when applied to himself. Oh, yes, Lucius knew that he had a pride that refused to be tamed, and he was sure he was the only one who knew the true extent of that vice. Perhaps Dumbledore could be included into the limited number who knew of Lucius' secrets, but Lucius hardly wanted to acknowledge that the old man had cracked him, and generally ignored the memory of Dumbledore. Everyone who had once known the real Lucius was now, fortunately for him, six feet under for one reason or another.

Lucius had always liked keeping secrets as it gave him a boost of power and confidence, knowing that he was the only who knew certain things in the entire world. It was a powerful piece of knowledge to have and that habit still lived on, and as he stared thoughtfully at the night sky outside, Lucius pondered over his self-analysis that he had made years ago.

Coming back onto his original course of thought, Lucius addressed the issue gnawing irritatingly at him. He felt out of depth. He felt out of depth, and it enraged him just as much as it perplexed him. He was accustomed to being the one who always knew what was happening; always one step ahead. But now, the tables had been turned on him by one unwitting, heartbroken Muggleborn who continued to be stubborn even in her misery. Lucius had thought himself to know everything about life, before he had met Hermione Granger, but now, he found himself doubting every miniscule scrap of knowledge he had stored inside his vast vault of memories and questioning every single belief ever imprinted upon his being.

He hated fate for crashing his party yet again, but in his hate, there was also reluctant defeat. His stay in Azkaban had given him sufficient time to reflect upon himself and it had also been ironically, a second chance at life. Thinking about it, Lucius supposed Dumbledore had been the one who had got him imprisoned as he could distinctly remember the former Headmaster condemning him before the Wizengamot when without him, Lucius might have managed to escape with heavy sums of gold and a quick wand hand. Still, Lucius had finally arrived at the conclusion while sitting in prison that Dumbledore had probably meant for him to be incarcerated and have another chance to start. It would have been typical of Dumbledore to have such irritatingly good intentions.

Now, Lucius had one of Dumbledore's treasured followers in the next room, and she, much like the old Headmaster, flummoxed him with her persistent belief of love, which he thought to be rather useless and unnecessary. However, Lucius had been surprised to feel some kind of concern at seeing the formerly spirited girl turn into a broken shell of what she had been, and it worried him that he was feeling a sliver of worry at her sudden transformation.

Perhaps he was losing his touch; he enjoyed his reputation as a cold-hearted bastard who was selfish to the core. The fact that some girl, who was the same age as his son and not even of known wizard blood, could bring him to his knees was both despicable and unbelievable. While once upon a time, Lucius would have sought to destroy the one who undermined him in such a way, he had no such urge now when he considered Granger. More likely, he was struck by a growing intrigue as to how someone so young could be so powerful and knowledgeable, and he wanted to know everything that configured her very being. The more she challenged him, the more he felt himself wanting to rise to meet that challenge, filled with the desire to prove himself as being great. The way she accused him of being unable to love nettled him, and Lucius wanted nothing more than to show her that he had no use of such a clumsy tool as love when he had power.

Yet despite his inner ranting, he could never completely ignore the small part of him that whispered its wish to know, to learn, to master. Reaching for the single picture frame propped up on his bedside table and eyes seeking out the only face he was interested in out of the figures, the hidden voice in Lucius seemed to murmur louder.

Would he ever love…

36\. A Promise of Loyalty

Hermione woke suddenly, thrown out of her uneasy sleep by her disturbing dreams. Feeling cold as a stray breeze hissed across her sweat-covered face, she blinked exhaustedly into the darkness of the room, momentarily confused by where she was. Echoes of her usual nightmares sounded through her mind as visions of terror lingered with haunting eeriness. Struggling to calm herself in the relentless dark, Hermione blindly reached over to her right as she searched for the bedside table where her wand lay. After a few long seconds of scrabbling, her fingers laid claim to the cool stick of wood and she hurriedly muttered, "Lumos!", and a harsh, white light glowed from the wandtip.

Taking a moment to let her tired eyes adjust, Hermione cautiously looked around her room with a prickle of apprehension, not knowing what she was searching for but spine tingling in anticipation all the same. The shadows had been pushed into the far corners as the light of her wand banished them, but the presence of illumination did little to soothe Hermione in the way she had desired. Drawing the cold bed sheets closer around her to try and revive some warmth, she looked around with eyes narrowed in fear, feeling as though there was something distinctly missing in the room.

It was only when her eyes fell on the empty chair beside her bed, that she realised why she was feeling so abandoned. She had forgotten that Lucius had left for his own room earlier that night, and before she had time to catch herself, a thought had already popped into her head. Grimacing slightly as she realised the ridiculousness of her initial wish for his company, Hermione prepared to resume sleeping again and muttered the spell to extinguish the light of her wand.

Lying in the darkness, she waited for sleep to drag her back down to its unconscious depths, but was both surprised and frustrated to find that her mind had woken up enough to start thinking. She kept her eyes closed in the hopes of falling into slumber, but minutes ticked past, and Hermione failed to fall asleep. Inside her mind, her thoughts formed in antagonising stubbornness, refusing to halt or even change its subject. Unwanted images of Ron, Harry and Lucius sprung up before her mind's eye and began swamping her with wretchedness, their faces flashing past as ugly memories spread through her. Trying to fight off the wave of depression rippling over her, Hermione pressed her face into her pillow and struggled to grab hold of sleep, though all in vain.

Despite her struggling spirit, her mind continued to work of its own accord, throwing out the more unpleasant parts of recent events for her to notice. Curling up in a ball under the cool sheets, Hermione fought to shut out all the horrifying memories and thoughts of Ron, but failed miserably as her former friend and possible partner staunchly remained lodged in her head. Letting out a soft groan of exasperation, Hermione fell into an early defeat, too weakened by recent incidents to keep up the fight for long.

She allowed herself to lie still and silent as Ron's voice sounded through her mind in distant distortion, replacing the screeching voice of Bellatrix that usually occupied her sleeping mind. In the darkness of night and sub-existence, she felt so terribly lonely and guilty, although she could not name a crime she might have committed. In the darkness, there was no one to judge her, or to comfort her as tears gathered in her eyes and slowly trailed down her cheeks, rolling with an infectious reluctance. The raw anguish of her heart swelled again as she was reminded that a great love had been lost the day before. A love that she had been slowly moulding herself into…

In her morbid desperation, Hermione felt like accepting Lucius' belief of love being useless; love being hurtful, damaging and reckless. It couldn't be right for love to abandon her so absolutely, and she couldn't help but feel resentment towards everything she had lived for. No one had ever told her that she and Ron were a bad match. In fact, she was certain that everyone had been more than approving and encouraging of their becoming a couple, but perhaps that was where the problem lay. She and Ron were the best of friends; there was a certain amount of understanding and interests that they shared, but she would be lying if she denied that at times, she had wondered if he was what she wanted.

Ron was one of those people who could always be relied upon for a light-hearted view of the world, and would laugh, even when darkness fell. He was one of the only people whom Hermione knew who could bring out the more immature and careless side in her, but the ease she felt when with him was one of confusing explanation. Ever since the moment he had pledged to protect her after she had been petrified by the Basilisk back in second-year, Hermione had felt something shift in her as a result. She had loved Ron on and off throughout their time at school, but she could recall that her feelings had been constantly swayed by the logical reasoning presented by her mind.

Ron was not the type of person Hermione would have originally expected herself to be with, but nevertheless, the thought of him could still make her smile. It was certainly an odd thing to try and analyse for Hermione, as certain aspects of her relationship to Ron were both unexplainable and confusing. Lucius was right; there was something incomprehensible about her love for Ron when seen from the rational mind, but on the other hand, Hermione could understand it perfectly.

All the thinking made her head ache and her heart grieve. She desperately wanted someone like Ginny to spill out all her thoughts as she had often found it both therapeutic and clarifying in the past to give life to the thoughts swirling fiercely inside of her. Hermione craved company and human warmth as the unwavering night began to smother her, pushing fear and loneliness to pulse through her as she shivered in bed. The desire for someone – no, anyone – grew stronger in her as she tried to keep the cold emptiness of her heart at bay; frightened by the way her damaged heart threatened to overrule any reasoning of her isolated mind.

She could hear her own breathing sounding uneasily in the room as she unsuccessfully battled her worries, and it reminded Hermione all the more, that she was so alone. Too alone.

A flame of determination flared through her as she hurriedly sat up and slipped out of bed, forgetting her wand as she manoeuvred herself to the door; her mind too caught up in her state of rising panic to allow her to rationalise. Her hands fumbled to find the doorknob, and she quickly turned the handle as she felt cold metal beneath her fingers. She was out in the dark hallway before she knew it, and the taunting darkness made her hurry in her actions; stumbling to the closed door next to her room and opening it quickly to let her into the dark chamber.

Shutting the door behind her quietly, Hermione felt her unexpected surprise replace her agitation as she realised that the room held no light besides that which the moon lent as it shone through the unimpeded windows. Leaning against the cool wood of the door, she observed the bedchamber with uncertainty as the realisation of what she had just done dawned upon her.

She had come and entered Lucius' room without even asking or checking to see if he was awake. For those two reasons alone, she was sure that he would be irritated, if not, furious. Somewhere in her mind, a voice urged Hermione to go back to her own territory, as it was foolish enough to have presumed that Lucius would even want to help her, let alone have her invade his private space. But the voice went ignored; Hermione was in too much of a raw state to listen to what she actually knew to be rather sensible, and the old part of her quivered as she shunned her initial worry and took a step forwards.

Walking with muted footsteps, she approached the side of the bed closest to the window, and was met with the unexpected sight of a fully-robed Lucius as he sat sleeping with his back resting against the headboard, his hands covering a framed photograph that was lying facedown in his lap. With only the moonlight to line his peaceful features, Hermione was struck into being speechless as she openly stared at him, knowing that she could do so without fearing his knowledge. In the white light of the nocturnal sun, Lucius looked…different. Taking a final step to stand with her legs lightly pressed against the bed, Hermione stared at him unabashedly as she tired to make sense of what she was seeing. She was sure Lucius looked younger, the usual hardness of his face having softened as he relaxed in his sleep, looking untroubled and almost happy.

Leaning in slightly closer, Hermione focused on the unexpected smoothness of his skin that seemed to have retained the suppleness of youth, despite the slight lines that had formed around his mouth and the grey tint of weariness beneath his closed eyes. She didn't have to think hard to imagine what he would have looked like in his youth; a face that would have been very similar to Draco, but perhaps with a slightly sharper, more masculine edge. The way his cheekbones rose so gracefully made Hermione want to touch them, but she resisted the impulse as she was frightened to wake him.

Lucius didn't look half as intimidating or arrogant when he was asleep, and Hermione found this new face of his fascinating to look at. She was aware that what she was doing was perhaps foolish and embarrassing, but she was content that it would be kept a secret between herself and her only other witness; the moon. Studying the mystery Lucius formed brought some comfort to Hermione, as it took her away from whatever troubles that had claimed her. It was how she had always dealt with problems of her own; she would simply throw herself into her studies until she completely forgot whatever was bothering her, and when she emerged from her bubble of distraction, she would realise that the problem wasn't actually a problem. For instance, when Ron had taken Lavender, of all people, to be his girlfriend, Hermione had forgotten her worries by causing distractions for herself, although her method had only been partially successful as the problem had been a lot bigger than anything she had experienced previously.

Now, as she studied Lucius and tried to solve the riddle he formed, her weariness and agony were replaced by an irrepressible curiosity and enthralment. His calm, pale face lured her, and despite the warnings issued by her mind, Hermione couldn't resist the temptation of drawing even closer to observe him better. Inching forwards, she noticed how he almost looked…lifeless as he slept, the only sign of his continued existence being the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Watching him so freely felt unnatural and even wrong to Hermione, for she was so used to Lucius being the one to scrutinise. Still, it didn't stop her from watching him in his most vulnerable state, and it occurred to Hermione just how exposed he was to her.

She immediately tensed when Lucius suddenly murmured something and his brows pulled together in a flittering expression of pain. With growing concern, Hermione saw the muscle in his jaw working as he muttered something incoherent; his hands brushing the photograph off of his lap as he moved to clench the bed sheets, crumpling them in his seeming agony. A string of words left his lips as his back unexpectedly arched jerkily while he grimaced in evident pain, and Hermione thought she caught the words 'my Lord' and 'Draco' in his muttering. She watched in horror as Lucius was gripped by his own nightmare, shocked into immobility while seeing beads of sweat forming on his scrunched forehead. Hermione stood in uncertainty as he made some vague denials to an imaginary master, not knowing whether she should wake him or not.

When Lucius gave a hoarse cry of pain that made Hermione jump, she quickly grabbed hold of his shoulders before she could falter and tried to shake him awake. Hermione yelped when his eyes snapped open and his hands crushed her wrists as he grabbed them faster than a blink, and she found herself flying backwards before crashing painfully on the wooden floor. She gave a small shriek of pain and shock while Lucius fell with her and stumbled onto his knees, his legs astride her as one of his hands clamped around her throat. Gasping and guttering for air, Hermione stared wildly into his glazed eyes as her hands scrabbled at his to try and loosen his tightening hold on her neck, her vision beginning to be filled with fuzzy black spots.

Then, all of sudden, she was breathing, and there was a noticeable gush of cold air around her body as Lucius swiftly sprung back, staggering backwards a few steps as the momentum of his movement unbalanced him momentarily. Hermione rubbed her sore neck as she hurriedly sat up, shuffling backwards as well until her back felt itself pressed against the wall with the window above her head. She stared with wide eyes at Lucius across the gained distance between them, her heart beating wildly in its cage as adrenalin continued to pulse angrily through her blood. Gently massaged her throat as she drew in great gulps of fresh air through her open mouth, she was unable to take her eyes off Lucius, who was standing with his legs pressed up against the side of the bed, as if to get as far away from her as possible. Their eyes met across the darkened room, and Hermione could see that the pupils of his silver orbs were large and black, leaving only a thin ring of light grey around them. Hermione could find nothing to say as her mind was still frozen in shock, and so she continued staring at him, unable to articulate either thoughts or words.

"What are you doing here?" Lucius eventually demanded in a low, angry tone that made Hermione wince.

"I…" she started before running out of ideas on how to reply.

"Do you not realise what I could have done to you?" Lucius hissed at her with eyes that narrowed in rage. "I could have killed you!"

Hermione felt like a fool; she didn't even know why she had come to Lucius' room in the first place, and any reasons she tried to come up with sounded ridiculous now. She felt her nose tingle unpleasantly and her throat constrict as her eyes grew hot with tears, feeling ashamed and humiliated by her own stupidity. She looked away from him when her sight became blurry, wanting to hide her crying from him, but from the way he exhaled impatiently, Hermione guessed that he was far too perceptive to not notice. The tears spilled out of her faster when the troubles she had tried to keep away returned in an overwhelming rush, flooding her with despair that was multiplied several times over by the added factor of Lucius' anger towards her. Hermione felt like an utter failure in life; not only had she managed to enrage and evoke hate for her in one of her closest friends, and lose the rest of her friends, but she had also succeeded in triggering the only person available to her into loathing her. How could she have been so stupid?

She didn't attempt to struggle when a pair of strong hands gripped her upper arms and pulled her up roughly onto her feet, but when the hands made to let go, she quickly grabbed onto Lucius' arms, knowing that her legs wouldn't support her weight at that moment. She heard him hiss slightly as she clung to his arms, her shoulders slumping against the wall as she leaned her head back and swallowed back her sobs. When she thought she had calmed herself enough to be able to talk, Hermione slowly released her hold on his arms and raised her eyes to meet his.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she leaned against the wall for support, the feeling of humiliation gnawing at her as she glanced away in embarrassment, glad that the darkness of the room would hide her burning cheeks. She continued to feel like an idiot as Lucius stared at her with hardened eyes, his taller frame looming over her slightly as he remained standing directly before her. Steering her eyes reluctantly back to his to discern his mood, Hermione felt a breath of relief as she saw him loosen up a little, his black-robed shoulders sinking ever so slightly as he exhaled.

"You are not the only one in this household who experiences unpleasant dreams, Miss Granger," Lucius said at last in a quiet drawl, his veiled expression one of impatience mixed with exasperation.

"I'm sorry," Hermione repeated in response, not knowing how to make up for her earlier idiocy. She held herself with shame as Lucius eyed her with severity for a moment before he breathed a light sigh.

"You truly do not know how to look after yourself," he remarked a little bitingly while Hermione automatically cringed at the criticism; she was in no state to receive any harshness. Lucius seemed to notice her recoiling, for he gazed at her with hard scrutiny before he silently held out his right hand to her. Hermione stared at it for a moment in surprise before she glanced up and caught his eyes. There was commandment in those pale grey eyes, but also a sense of reassurance which made Hermione sigh quietly as she slowly raised her own hand to lay it against his warm palm. It felt strange to have his fingers curl around her hand to take hold of it, and she forgot to protest as he led her out of his room and back to her own, too preoccupied with the feel of his hand holding hers with such firmness and unexpected warmth.

When he let go of her hand to light the candle on the bedside, Hermione felt an unpleasant coldness swathe her released hand and she found herself missing the warmth that his touch had brought. Nevertheless, she obeyed without question when he gestured for her to get back into bed, and silently edged back under the chilly covers, lying back with a heavy sigh. She raised her head in surprise when Lucius neglected his usual seat and once again sat down on the edge of the bed, but let her head fall back down onto her pillow as she gave up on trying to distinguish his ulterior motives. Her body was feeling too shattered to move and her spirit wasn't too far behind in its weariness. Sighing again as she folded her hands over the covers and rested them over her stomach, her eyes sought out Lucius' and was immediately ensnared by his gaze.

"Why did you come to my room?" he asked in a low voice as soon as he had gained her attention. Hermione couldn't stop herself from blushing at how ridiculous her explanation sounded, but Lucius seemed undeterred by her embarrassment, leaving Hermione no choice but to at least try.

"I – I just needed to be with someone," she replied in a hushed voice. "I wanted to talk. I needed to talk."

"About what?" Lucius asked with one fine eyebrow lifted in questioning while Hermione thought it over.

"About…everything."

"That is a lot to talk about," Lucius remarked lightly as he leaned back a little so that he sat with his back straightened while a strange, unfamiliar mask appeared over his face.

"Yes, it is," Hermione agreed in a whisper as her thoughts began to wander back to topics previous to her visiting Lucius.

"But my intuition tells me that there are some specific things you wish to speak about," Lucius said in a thoughtful murmur while Hermione turned her gaze back to look at him.

"I'm just very tired…of life."

"And why would that be?" Lucius prompted her smoothly, sounding neither too involved nor too indifferent, but hitting a tone that was just right in its concern.

"This – this curse; it makes me feel so…insecure," Hermione admitted as she stared up at the ceiling that was patterned with blurry shadows. "I feel as though I'm living all the emotions of my childhood again, but heightened somehow. More intense. I can't stop feeling like I'm seventeen all over again."

"It is all part of the effects of the curse," Lucius explained in slight consolation. "You are more susceptible because of it."

"I'm so confused by everything! I'm sure I never felt such strong emotions when I was younger, but now, I'm always being overpowered by my feelings…" Hermione confessed as she mourned over the disappearance of her old self who had never been so hampered by unwarranted emotions.

"You will learn to control them," Lucius told her matter-of-factly, drawing Hermione's eyes back to him.

"How?" she asked in curiosity that was diluted by her exhaustion.

"I will teach you," she heard him say as she closed her eyes and rolled onto her side so that she was facing towards the door, sleep having landed upon her lashes at last. As her consciousness began to waver, one last thought popped up in Hermione's head and she murmured it out, barely able to keep her eyes open to look at Lucius.

"Who was in that photograph you were holding?"

"Nobody you know," Lucius assured her quietly while Hermione meekly accepted his answer and almost instantly fell under Morpheus' influence.

 

Lucius calmly watched the girl sleep, feeling soothed at the sight of the peaceful way she slumbered. It triggered memories within him when he would watch his son fall asleep, so many years ago. Staring at the half of Granger's face that wasn't obscured by her drawn up arms, he wondered where they were and who they had become. He had always been so used to disguising himself while in his other life where he was always surrounded by unwanted eyes and judgemental minds. Now, however, after weeks of living in a secluded house with no one but a cursed girl and an ancient house-elf for constant company, he felt oddly unsure of what had happened to him.

He wanted to go back to being his cold, indifferent self, because then, he wouldn't have to worry about anything, but it was getting increasingly harder to find the apathetic self in him. He felt himself to be smothered by the human closeness of Granger's presence, and it bothered him, just as much as it intrigued him. Looking down at her sleeping form, he watched her body gently rise and fall in time with her quiet breaths, unable to articulate his thoughts with quite the control he had exercised previously. Gazing thoughtfully at the head of bushy hair that looked irritatingly untamed, Lucius tried to configure all his different traits that belonged to separate divisions of himself.

It was something he had taken to doing whenever he was unoccupied; self-analysis was good practice for his perception skills. Ever since he had discovered in Azkaban, the crucial act of allowing his conscience to be, Lucius had silently been filled with doubts about everything he had known.

It didn't seem right that a girl of – what was she? – twenty seemed to know more about the truth than he, someone with far more life experience, knew. It had interested him from the start; Granger had appeared so undignified and sometimes even childish to the outer eye, but there had been no doubt about her state of awareness or her knowledge. He believed what he had told her before; she was simply feeling overly emotional due to some great backlash of being cursed with something unknown. He was glad that she was now being a lot more docile, as it made living with her a little more bearable, although Lucius had to admit that he would miss having an outlet for his irrepressible sarcasm and anger. It had been easier to let out his rage when the Granger girl had been too blinded by her own ire to notice, but he could hardly show his wrath at her submissiveness without looking like an ignorant fool.

He half-wondered whether he might miss the fire that seemed to burn in the girl's heart, but dismissed the idea, as it would make his job all the more easier and quicker if she was in a state of being controllable. Fixing his eyes on her again, Lucius noticed the finer details of her face as they were illuminated by the warm glow of the candle, able to perceive the softness of her youth in her rosy cheeks and in the light curve of her lips. The large brown eyes that usually stared back at him were covered from his view by her eyelids, her dark lashes casting fine lines of shadow along the slight dip beneath her eyes. He noticed she looked more like a woman now; the girl in her seemed to have died along with her childish love of the Weasley boy, and though Granger didn't seem to realise, Lucius could see the full potential of her talent in her new self. Yes, womanhood suited Miss Granger much more and he was pleased to see the transformation.

It would be so much more convenient to work with someone in an adult frame of mind, and Lucius found himself hoping her depression would remain long enough to bring her to a realisation of this. The timing of her dejection was perhaps more fortunate than he had initially realised, but he was satisfied all the same that she would no longer suffer any bouts of immaturity while there was no Weasley idiot in her life. He had told her he would teach her, and he wasn't going to go back on his words. Lucius had always wanted to teach Draco all the secrets of magic that he knew, but it had pained him more than once to learn that his own son, who was powerful in his own way, had little interest in learning from his father. Lucius wondered if it was his punishment for having mistreated his own father, but either way, he couldn't reach Draco for now, and he was going to have to occupy himself with something else.

Ever since the first time he had introduced Granger to some light spells bordering on the verge of the Dark Arts, Lucius had been pleased by the vast extent of her magical power that had been displayed to him. He was certain she wasn't aware of her capabilities in that area, but he could make her learn. It would be a downright shame otherwise, to allow such a good student to slip through his fingers when there was an art to appreciate.

He smiled as he rose off the bed to leave for his own room, leaning down slightly to extinguish the candle and glancing at Granger's face for a moment to study it in the different light. Then, he blew out the flame and slipped away into the darkness that comforted him the most.

 

"Hold your wand higher."

Hermione sighed as she tried not to let her impatience get the better of her. They had been doing spellwork for three whole hours, and she thought she might faint from exhaustion anytime soon. Whenever she had started to slouch or appeared to suggest a break, a hand had gripped her elbow and pulled her up slightly while Lucius had made the occasional remark about being indolent.

"Straighten your back. It really will do you no favours to slump your shoulders like that."

"Yes, sir," Hermione muttered with a roll of her eyes, both of which she was careful to hide from Lucius' piercing senses. In that particular moment, she pitied Draco for having such a stringent father and she could almost see why he had been such an intolerable little monster at school. One could only be driven into rebelling against such a dominating force like Lucius.

"Continue to mutter like that, and I shall have to teach you a lesson in linguistics also, Miss Granger," Lucius told her snidely while Hermione quashed the rising wave of annoyance and concentrated on appearing calm and mild, which seemed to work best for her interactions with the elder Malfoy.

"Are you ready?" he asked her once he had guessed she was concentrating enough to perform magic.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed with a slight nod, standing in the middle of the drawing room with her wand raised to point upwards while directed at a far corner. She knew what she had to do as Lucius had drummed it into her mercilessly for the entire morning, both the theory and the practical work. In silence, she awaited his command, internal hearing tuned to the steady pace of her beating heart that thudded calmly in its cage, emptying her mind of stray thoughts like he had told her to. It was only when the silence began to drag that Hermione turned her head a fraction so as to search for Lucius who was standing a few metres away, behind her line of sight.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" she asked him as she took a step to turn on the spot, puzzled by his sudden break in the routine. At her question, Lucius smiled, and it was a distinctly odd expression. Hermione simply stared at him in expectancy, feeling a little unnerved by the serenity of his curved lips that seemed to be twisted upwards in such an innocent little gesture, yet her instincts told her not to trust it in the least. Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, Hermione waited for him to answer, fully aware that there was going to be no way Lucius would refrain from speaking when she was so clearly paying attention to him. She wasn't disappointed.

"Your unremitting impatience amuses me," he said in his light drawl, his wand hand relaxed at his side, despite the light stick of wood cradled between his long, pale fingers. Hermione wasn't quite sure how best to respond, and kept quiet as her tired mind attempted to form some decent sentences. Lucius seemed to notice her unusual slowness of thought, for his cold smile grew ever so slightly wider while he took two languid steps to lessen the gap between them. Hermione kept her eyes trained on his as he moved, apprehensive of his behaviour as she had discovered that constant vigilance was crucial when dealing with deeper magic and Lucius Malfoy in the same room. Concentrating on keeping her breathing even, Hermione continued to stare into his light grey eyes that were focused on her, the pace of her heart picking up as it grew louder in its beat.

"They do say patience is a virtue," Lucius murmured as he watched her with his sharp eyes, making Hermione feel nervous despite herself as she felt him scrutinise her carefully.

"You have many things to learn, Miss Granger," he continued in an even quieter tone as he took a final, small step forwards until they were separated by a mere foot of space. "Magic is one thing; life is completely another."

Hermione stared up at him in blank anticipation, feeling strangely drained of energy and too weary in mind to articulate her usually vibrant thoughts. Since she had woken up that morning, she had been unable to break free of her gloomy mood that seemed to suit the house so well. Any other time, she might have been fighting to have her own way and telling Lucius to go away using slightly more obscene language, but since her rising as the empty shell of the old Hermione, she felt lifeless, quite lifeless. When Lucius had suggested for her to learn some new things to invigorate her deadened mind and stimulate her soul, she had agreed without much expression, not caring what the result would be. Had she still had a heart that beat in one, unified piece, she might have been insolent, angry, excited or happy at Lucius for teaching her, but with the centre of her existence lying in shattered fragments, Hermione felt like she was barely awake.

"I was hoping you would take some initiative with casting the spell," Hermione heard Lucius say, and she drew her attention back to him.

"You need not wait for my word; this is not about me. This is about you," he said firmly, while Hermione couldn't help but frown.

"But I thought you said –"

"–If you wish to learn, I need complete obedience from you, Miss Granger," Lucius finished for her calmly while Hermione puzzled over the meanings of his words.

"Obedience and respect," Lucius murmured quietly as his eyes flickered over her face. "And you have given me both of those."

Hermione waited for him to elaborate further, still uncertain of what he was trying to say. Deep inside, she felt frustration whirl at her particular slowness of mind, but her ire barely made it up to the surface as she had no energy to be angry. Gazing into his cool, mercurial eyes, Hermione felt like she was staring into a mirror that refused to show what was passing behind its face, but only sent back a distorted reflection of herself. When two cool fingers gently touched her chin and tilted her head back slightly, Hermione allowed for it to happen, too mesmerised by his eyes to make any protests.

"I do not take such gifts lightly, Miss Granger," Lucius said with barely a movement of his lips. "When I am bestowed with another's respect, it is more than my duty to return it, regardless of the person."

Hermione stared at him in silent awe as he carried on. "Ruling by force is the way of the weak. Acting by respect is what makes a true leader. You have gained my respect, so now; it is your turn to lead."

Hermione frowned at his dancing phrases, not quite able to make the connection between the leaping words, but she nevertheless understood the gist of it and turned to raise her wand once again. Concentrating on keeping her aim and gathering her magic, she allowed the pulsing flow of power ripple down to her right arm and travel up to her fingertips which held her wand. Pushing aside the questions that clamoured about Lucius' unusual words, she took a few deep breaths before silently reciting the right spell.

A flash of golden light burst from the end of her wand and shot to the targeted corner like a lightning streak, leaving behind a trail of hot air that waved through Hermione's hair. Letting herself relax in satisfaction, Hermione smiled as she felt the newfound power in herself yet again and enjoyed the enlivening sensation of a deeper magic. She turned her head to face sideways when she felt a congratulating hand on her shoulder, the warm pressure making her feel more delighted with herself. Looking up at Lucius, she gave him a small smile that was the toned down interpretation of her inner excitement, and was both surprised and pleased to see him give her tight smile in return.

"It is such a shame that you are not of wizard blood," he remarked nonchalantly while the joy in Hermione quickly faltered. "You could have had a much more promising beginning had you been born into the right family."

"I'm glad with the family I have," Hermione answered a little curtly as her sudden annoyance spiked her melancholy. "I wouldn't exchange my parents for anyone."

"Oh, no doubt," Lucius agreed in mild acceptance, which made Hermione's eyes narrow in suspicion. "I am merely pointing out that you could be far more powerful now, had you been trusted and respected by the right people."

"Right people?"

"I must say, an orphaned Potter and the Weasley family are not terribly good examples of proper wizarding behaviour," Lucius commented with a haughty look on his face as he stood beside Hermione, his hand still resting on her shoulder. "I can understand how you would have never received the attention you needed at that stage. The Weasleys have never been ones to train their many young in the ways of magic."

"And I suppose your wonderful family do?" Hermione said with a bite of sarcasm, feeling riled by Lucius' obvious disparagement of a family that was almost like her own.

"Now, now, there is no need for the usage of that tone, Miss Granger," Lucius chided her smoothly as he released her shoulder and turned so that they were facing each other. "I was only making an observation."

"If you think you're going to win me over by bad-mouthing the Weasleys just because of what happened with Ron, think again!" Hermione snapped as she vented the frustration that had been building up inside her since the day before. She glowered at Lucius when all he did was smile coldly at her, but felt her short burst of anger morph into doubtful confusion as he reached out a hand to gently stroke her hair just once before he seemed to realise the strangeness of his impulsive action and pulled his hand back. He glanced at his hand as he lowered it back to his side, before raising his eyes back up to meet Hermione's puzzled gaze and exhaling deeply.

"You are angry," Lucius stated quietly, not making another move to reach out to her, but his unexpectedly considerate tone more than enough to reach Hermione's heart.

"Yes," she confirmed with a nod as she tried to suppress the wave of temper that wanted to break free, uncaring of the fact that the anger was directed at not only Lucius, but Ron and herself as well.

"I cannot quite understand how you can be so blindingly loyal to a family who have never nurtured you like that should have," Lucius mused aloud while Hermione's anger was quick to vanish, the emptiness left in its place rapidly filled by rising doubt.

"What – what do you mean?" Hermione asked a little warily, wondering if she really wanted to hear his explanation or not.

"Perhaps you have never noticed, and I can hardly blame you for not doing so, but the Weasleys never paid great attention to you as anything other than the friend of one of their offspring," Lucius began, his eyes calculating and searching as they bore into Hermione, making her feel nervous as well as uncertain.

"Well, yes, but that's normal, isn't it? I mean, it would've been a bit weird if Mr Weasley had suddenly decided to teach me what you're teaching me now," Hermione answered in a slight rambling, feeling flustered by the seeds of doubt Lucius' words had sown in her mind.

"Normal? Perhaps for a dysfunctional line such as the Weasleys, but certainly not for those who care about the magical power in their young ones," Lucius drawled with a small, bitter smile as he looked away for a moment in thought.

"But why would anyone care about how much magic I had in me? It's not like I was one of their kids or anything," Hermione asked in bemusement while Lucius' eyes came back to focus on her.

"Ah, but it was their duty to help you, seeing as they formed such a close relationship with you," Lucius explained smoothly while questions overwhelmed Hermione about the idea of this 'duty'.

"Their duty?" she asked in order to get a better understanding of what Lucius was trying to say.

"It is what those of the ancient lines must do. We are guardians of power, in that sense."

"But no one ever told me this!" Hermione exclaimed in a mixture of surprise and excitement, staring up at Lucius with wide eyes.

"Not many know," Lucius reasoned, his serene tone bringing Hermione back from her brief moment of expression to listen in her tamed, morose mask. "Those who do, only remember a common misinterpretation of the pure-blood laws."

"Pure-blood laws? As in, Death Eaters?" Hermione asked as things began to click.

"One could loosely connect the laws to the Death Eaters, but it would be wrong to tell of the laws as simply being the purging of impurity in our bloodlines," Lucius said calmly, his unfazed countenance influencing Hermione's current volatile state of being.

"Then what are the laws? Surely they're something to do with keeping your bloodlines pure or something? I thought that's one of the main goals for pure-bloods?"

"Like I said, you have much to learn, Miss Granger," Lucius sighed as he took a step back to raise his wand and give it an elegant flourish, the thin streak of electric blue that shot out of his wandtip dancing like a ribbon, twisting and turning to form words that burned brightly at Hermione.

Sanguis Lex

"Sanguis Lex," Lucius said, repeating the words that were glowing before Hermione's eyes. "Otherwise known as 'Blood Law'."

"Blood Law?" Hermione repeated with a frown while Lucius looked at her with a triumphant expression.

"It has always been the duty of the ancient families to uphold and answer to the Blood Law," Lucius said with a smile that Hermione guessed was directed at himself. "It is our responsibility to ensure that the power of magic is passed down to those who are trustworthy and capable of control."

Hermione watched him reminisce as he fell silent for a moment, his eyes looking into the distance while his lips remained curved up at the corners. Then, Lucius had shaken off whatever had enraptured him, and he was gazing back steadily into Hermione's eyes in his tutoring mode.

"Of course, the true form of the Law is rarely followed these days, what with the centuries' worth of misconception," he said matter-of-factly while Hermione listened in fervent anticipation. "Legend has it, that there was even a prophecy regarding the rise of a great wizard who would lead us into a world of purity."

"Voldemort," Hermione stated softly, causing Lucius to tense for a moment at the sound of the name.

"Most of us were disillusioned from the very beginning, having been taught that the Blood Law was something besides its true meaning and that our duty was to purge the lines of impure blood," Lucius continued in his languid drawl, captivating Hermione's interest completely.

"When we heard of the Dark Lord and his aims, many of us were overjoyed at the promise of fulfilment in the ancient prophecy," Lucius admitted in a lowered voice, a sense of darkness appearing around him as he spoke. "By this time, our lines had become watered with the essence of common man, and some of the stauncher pure-bloods turned to the extremes of suggesting genocide against the impure in order to find the required equilibrium of the world."

"But that's what Voldemort did, isn't it?"

"The Dark Lord was clever and cunning, and it is hardly any surprise that he was Slytherin's heir," Lucius agreed with a small nod, before he continued. "He saw use to be had in the way we pure-bloods were determined, but lacking a general direction, and I have no doubt that he used us to his full advantage."

"But I thought pure-bloods always wanted to wipe out the…impure," Hermione said in confusion, not quite comprehending the differences Lucius seemed to be pointing out.

"Those of pure-blood have always wished to uphold their pride and dignity by obeying the Blood Law," Lucius corrected firmly, "their loyalty towards it cannot be faulted, although perhaps it was wrong to act upon the misinterpreted Law."

"Wrong? Is that all you can think of to describe what pure-blood fanatics did?" Hermione asked in exasperation as she stared at Lucius, who received her sudden interruption coolly and unruffled.

"There are always several dimensions to life, Miss Granger. Neither you nor I have the right to judge the doings of others," he countered smoothly, his dismissal nettling Hermione's ire but his words making her stay silent as she realised what he meant.

"Getting back to the original topic at hand, I merely wish to remind you to be a little more careful in your loyalty and to never bind yourself fully to another lest your judgement be wrong," Lucius advised her, leaving Hermione no choice but to accept, albeit grudgingly.

"Why would it matter to you if I did anything?" Hermione asked with an indifferent shrug, wanting to be rid of the doubt that had nestled inside her. Her careless attitude was quickly strung into apprehension however, when she felt his hand come up to lightly cup her face and she raised her eyes to meet Lucius'.

"The loss would be too great," Lucius murmured through his smiling lips as he gently held her head in place. "The world has lost so many powerful ones to the unfairness of a wrong loyalty; do not let it happen to you, Miss Granger."

"I…I won't," Hermione promised in a whisper, causing Lucius' smile to look a fraction genuine before he quickly let go of her and turned away as he walked around and stood behind her, his emptied wand hand taking hold of hers and raising it to the ready stance. Hermione moved under his guidance, feeling her breathing quicken at his closeness and at the exhilaration brought on by all the knowledge he had imparted on her in the last hour. Head whirring with thoughts of blood laws and prophecies, she prepared herself for another round of magical exploration. When she non-verbally recited the spell, she felt an added force in her power as the magic shot down her arm and out of her wand with an almost painful surge, overwhelming her senses and burning a magnificent ring of smoking black on the far wall of tapestry.

Breathless from the sudden and unexpected power addition, it was a moment before Hermione realised that Lucius had never released his hold of her hand in the process, and his own magic had carried through the connection forged by their melded hands. Startled by the theory and fearful of any accidental magical binding, Hermione swiftly spun on the spot to face him, her hand still encapsulated by his as he looked at her with satisfaction.

"I shall hold you to your promise, Miss Granger."


	17. XVII

37\. Good Sons

Alone in the drawing room, Hermione was glad that Lucius had left her to have a break after such a tiring afternoon of learning. Her head felt quite dazed from the amount of theory and history that Lucius had imparted on her, and her body felt a little weak after channelling an unusual amount of magic through her. Sitting limply on the couch, Hermione realised that only a day had passed since Christmas Day. It felt like an eon since she had been surrounded by her old friends; since she had fought with Ron…

No. Mustn't think about that, she told herself sternly as she pushed away all her spiralling thoughts. She was depressed enough without having to be consciously aware of the painful rift in her heart; she didn't need to further herself into agony. Wilting with a sigh that drained her of air, Hermione wondered if she could be called lucky for having someone like Lucius to lean on in such a trying time. She had no idea whether his intentions were right or wrong, but she was grateful for his intervention nonetheless. She needed something grand scale to distract her from the missing love in her life, and Lucius had provided a temporary diversion with his tutorship. His presence in her life made it easier for her to forget her emotional troubles and focus on the work at hand; to rid herself of her unknown curse. A glow of gratitude swelled up in Hermione as realised just how much she had come to rely on him in the last few hours. It might have been completely unwitting on his part, but she couldn't deny the fact that it was he, not Harry or any of her friends, who had picked her off the floor of depression.

Gazing around at the tapestry that covered the walls of the room, Hermione's mind began to wander back to the conversation she had had earlier with Lucius on the Blood Law. She still couldn't quite get her head around the fact that Sanguis Lex was something that all pure-blood families answered to, yet it wasn't necessarily something that decreed the erasing of those of impure blood. Lucius had said that the Law called for the 'guardians', who were those of ancient pure-blood lines, to regulate the use of magic to those who were worthy of magic, not those who were impure. It was ironic then, that Lucius was having to backtrack on his entire life's worth of beliefs and turn back to the real meaning of the Blood Law; to guide those who were deemed worthy of magic. The very concept of such changes was enough to make the weary mind of Hermione splutter in incomprehension.

Sighing in fleeting defeat, Hermione covered her eyes briefly closed with her hand before she opened them with the determination to keep her thoughts simple. It was hard for someone so intellectually advanced such as herself to stick to uncomplicated thoughts, but she had no other option if she didn't want to give herself a headache. She already had heartache from her barely controllable emotions; she didn't want to have to handle anything more. Determined to keep her mind busy with only the present, Hermione brought herself to the point of realising that it was Boxing Day; a day that traditionally called for some giving of alms to those of servitude. In the case of Grimmauld Place, Hermione supposed servitude fell on Kreacher, and an idea popped into her head regarding the ancient house-elf. The very creativity of her genius made her want to laugh in joy, but she was also wary of the possibility that there could be a negative reception from the elf in question. She would have no choice but to try.

"Kreacher?"

There was a loud crack as a bony, old elf appeared at Hermione's feet and gave a curt little bow of his head. "What can Kreacher do for Master Harry's friend?"

Hermione hesitated a moment as she thought over her plans again, wondering if it would be rude of her to even make such a request. It took her several seconds to summon up the courage to address the house-elf with her plan.

"Well, Kreacher… I – I was wondering if you would possibly like a day off?"

Hermione exhaled quietly in relief as soon as she had got the sentence out, but was seized by dread when Kreacher's yellowing orbs bulged in horror and his long fingers curled in tight fists at his side.

"Miss would – would like Kreacher to have a day…off?" he croaked in an unusually stilting manner while he remained frozen in shock.

"Um… Yes, that's the general plan," Hermione confirmed tentatively before she jerked back in her seat and flinched at seeing the elf suddenly unfreeze and throw himself onto his knees with the unpleasant sound of bone against floor, while he brandished his fists with a tormented wave in the air.

In a hoarse wail, Kreacher managed to choke out, "Kreacher has never been asked this before!"

Hermione stared at the howling elf in confusion, uncertain whether Kreacher was upset by the request or crying with joy. She could still remember the time when she, Ron and Harry had won over the house-elf's respect by treating him with more fairness than he had probably experienced in his entire life, and she wondered if this was anything similar. She wanted to offer some words of solace to the bawling creature, but found herself curiously at a loss for words as she watched Kreacher's thin chest heave from his sudden sobs.

"Kreacher has – has never…h-had a day o-off bef-fore," the elf gasped out between the sobs that shook his tiny frame, and Hermione's heart twisted in sympathy with the little house-elf's anguish.

"Never before h-has anyone asked K-Kreacher to have a – a day off!"

"Well, consider it done today," Hermione said to him kindly as his huge eyes stared up at her. She gave him a friendly smile, but immediately winced when he let out an ear-piercing howl again and began banging his fists on the floor.

"Kreacher, please," Hermione implored him in a quietened voice that went unheard amidst his thin screams. "Please, don't cry," she begged him as she slipped from her seat to kneel next to Kreacher as he fell flat on the floor and buried his face in the old carpet.

"KREACHER HAS NEVER B-BEEN TREATED SO W-WELL!" the elf yowled while Hermione looked around frantically for some way to get him to calm down.

"There's no need to be upset, Kreacher," she told him nervously as her hands hovered above his shuddering body, not wanting to touch him in case it distressed him further. "I just want you to have a chance to be free for a day."

"EVEN MASTER R-REGULUS NEVER OFFERED K-KREACHER TO – TO HAVE A D-DAY OFF! MASTER HARRY AND HIS F-FRIENDS ARE TOO GREAT!" Kreacher wailed in a surprisingly high and piercing voice while Hermione winced yet again as the sound clawed at her eardrums.

"Kreacher, please calm down," Hermione said as soothingly as she could while the door to the drawing room burst open, and Lucius leapt in with his wand held at the ready in his hand.

"What is going on?" he demanded as his icy eyes flickered over everything in the room, clearly having mistaken Kreacher's screams for Hermione's, and expecting some sort of enemy to face.

"Um…nothing," Hermione said as Kreacher stopped screaming, but continued to roll dejectedly on the floor, his little fists thudding against the carpet. Hermione looked up at Lucius with an apologetic look while she felt her cheeks burn, embarrassed at being found in such an odd situation. She felt Lucius' cool grey eyes sweep over her as she knelt with her hands reaching out to Kreacher as he lamented without pause.

"House-elf mistreatment, Miss Granger?" Lucius drawled in mild surprise while one of his sculpted eyebrows cocked up to match his tone. "I would never have guessed."

"It's not like that," Hermione said hurriedly as she shot a frantic look at Kreacher who was mumbling something into the carpet.

"Then pray, what else?" Lucius prompted as he slowly tucked away his wand up his left sleeve. "I hope you refrained from trying to set it free. Life could get very difficult for you, should you do so."

"For me?" Hermione said as she stood up with a fleeting grimace at the pressure springing from her knees.

"Indeed. If that elf were to go, life's selection would naturally appoint you as the one to fill in its position. Good luck doing laundry," Lucius said with a brief smirk while Hermione felt a prickle of annoyance at his snide joke. Resisting the urge to rise against his little jibe pointing her out as the next elf, she turned back to Kreacher and knelt down again to tentatively touch him on the shoulder.

"Kreacher? Are you feeling alright?"

There was a loud sniff from the elf as he lay quivering slightly before he gave a small nod of his head. Hermione breathed out in relief before she looked up at the sound of disparagement from Lucius. He was staring at her in open ridicule, pale eyes narrowed in challenge as the corners of his lips twisted in a smile of mockery.

"Truly, Miss Granger, I thought you knew enough about elves to know that they do not have the same acuteness of feelings that humans possess," he said in his condescending way while Hermione rose to her feet to match his scorn with her defiance that flared whenever defending something she knew to be right.

"That's exactly the kind of attitude that makes house-elves resent wizards!" she told him sharply while Lucius' brow rose again in questioning. "It's that kind of manner that drives the house-elves into doing things like betraying their masters! Look at Sirius! He was betrayed by Kreacher because he never treated Kreacher fairly! Had he been like his brother Regulus, who actually cared about Kreacher's welfare, Sirius might still be alive today!"

There was a silence as Hermione ended her short but surprisingly zealous rant and stared into Lucius' eyes as she took a moment to catch her breath, her sudden outburst having made her a little breathless. Cold grey eyes gazed into the burning brown orbs as Lucius and Hermione continued to hold each other's gaze, waiting for the other to lose and look away. The moment of silent fighting was disrupted when both their attentions fell on the elf who shuffled into a sitting position by Hermione's feet. Forgetting her previous obligation of trying to convince Lucius, Hermione gave Kreacher an understanding smile as she waited for him to clean up his tear-smudged face.

"Kreacher? Can you do it? For me?" she asked him quietly and amicably, aware of Lucius' hard eyes trained on her with scrutiny, but not caring either way.

"Master Harry's friend has asked something of Kreacher that Kreacher has never been asked before," the elf said before he twitched in a hiccough.

"I know, but think of it as a request from me," Hermione said kindly. "I just really want to cook supper tonight."

"Only the elf is cooking anything in this house," Lucius immediately cut in as he took a few steps forward so that he was standing close enough to blast Hermione with his glare.

"I'm not that bad at cooking," Hermione countered back with a hurt expression, irritated and wounded that Lucius wouldn't trust her in the least when it came to something like food.

"There is no need to look at me like that, Miss Granger," he maintained curtly while Hermione grew sullen. "Even if you were the best chef in the world, it would not matter. I never trust anything made by human hands."

"But what happens if Kreacher puts poison in your food?" Hermione argued, ignoring the look of alarm on Kreacher's face as she made the suggestion.

"He would not do it," Lucius answered in an annoyingly calm voice, sounding almost smug in his serenity.

"Why not? He might suddenly hate you for being so callous to house-elves," Hermione contended with a slight shrug. "He had no problem trying to hack the legs of Death Eaters with kitchen knives at the final battle."

"His sense of duty will not allow such a thing to happen," Lucius asserted firmly, although Hermione could detect a slight bite of anger in the way his eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened.

"Bound by his unquestioning loyalty," Hermione said with a sigh as she turned her eyes to Kreacher who had managed to stand up and was glancing back and forth between Hermione and Lucius as they towered over him.

"It is what elves are made for," Lucius reasoned as his gaze dropped to the elf who cowered as Master Malfoy turned his powerful eyes on him.

"But that's just an excuse," Hermione shot back with a sliver of her old fire. "You might as well say the same of children!"

"They are similar, in some respects," Lucius agreed lightly as he continued to eye the elf with hardened scrutiny, a sense of mistrust radiating from his gaze.

"Well, there will be an opportunity for equality while I'm still in the house," Hermione proclaimed resolutely while Lucius' eyes flickered up to meet hers. "Kreacher is free to make his own decision if I offer him a day off."

"Think carefully before you make such offers, Miss Granger," Lucius warned her with narrowed eyes. "You are handling aspects of your future after all."

"If Kreacher decides to leave, I'll cook and you can wash-up!" Hermione snapped at him before she beckoned Kreacher over and turned her back on Lucius so she could ask the elf again without further disturbance.

"Will you at least let me cook dinner, Kreacher?" she asked him quietly, watching as Kreacher's large eyes flickered back to Lucius and then back to her.

"Please?" Hermione added with a hopeful expression which turned into a look of triumph as Kreacher's skeletal shoulders slumped in defeat and his giant, bat-like ears drooped in acceptance.

"If it is Master Harry's friend's wish, Kreacher will obey," Kreacher muttered with a sniff before giving a jerky little bow from his waist and disappearing with a crack. Unable to prevent herself from smiling in success, Hermione straightened up to face Lucius with a grin.

"Looks like you're doing the washing-up!" she told him cheerily before she hurried past him and out the room, trying not to skip when she was wearing her dignifying witches' robes. Surprisingly feeling in good spirits from just that little victory, Hermione made her way to the kitchen with a new buzz of life she had thought to be impossible, and began to prepare to cook. Humming the beginning bars of some Mozart, she pulled out pots and pans and rummaged around the cupboards for utensils. A short trip to the pantry that was connected to the kitchen by a small door gave Hermione all she needed for ingredients, and it was with an unexpected joviality, that she began to cook.

It had been a while since she had last cooked anything that could be considered a meal, and she had forgotten how much she enjoyed making use of her culinary skills. Changing tunes to hum something from the musical of Dracula, she pored over the recipes that Mrs Weasley had gathered back in the times when the house had been the headquarters of the Order and didn't notice she had an audience until she turned around some time later to open a cupboard and saw Lucius watching her from a nearby seat at the head of the kitchen table. Blushing for no apparent reason, Hermione tried not to falter in her nervousness at having his intoxicating eyes following her. Turning her back on him momentarily to fetch a knife, Hermione felt a mixture of jittery nerves and pure irritation at how unabashed he appeared when he stared at her. Shaking off all the thoughts that arose with her musings of Lucius, she glanced back at him with a small smile as she began unwrapping some cheese she had set out.

"I hope you don't mind Brie," she said in her best effort to sound nonchalant, although she could feel her hands tremor ever so slightly in the anxious desire to please her only diner.

"I suppose it shall not kill me," Lucius replied uncaringly, although his eyes never lost its intensity as he continued to watch Hermione as she moved around the kitchen. Trying to break the awkwardness that swathed the situation, Hermione began talking in a slight ramble as she tried to cover up her nervousness, growing flushed all the while.

"I used to love cooking when I was younger, but obviously, I only got the chance to do it when I came home for the holidays. That's the thing about Hogwarts; almost everything is done for you there, and I really don't like it how everyone becomes greedy and lazy, what with the elves doing all the cooking and cleaning."

Hermione paused to draw in a breath as she gathered concentration to dip the slices of brie into flour, eggs and breadcrumbs, and then begin frying them. As she stood over the frying pan, her thoughts turned back to house-elves and the fact that she was in the same room as a man who had probably never put two pieces of bread together in a sandwich in all the years of his life. It was a peculiar concept which only served to remind Hermione of the difference in upbringing she had had to that of the elder Malfoy. The hissing of oil thankfully filled in the void of words between Hermione and Lucius, and it was only when she was preparing the main course of rosemary lamb and pot-roasted turnips that she suddenly turned back to Lucius to engage him in conversation.

"How many house-elves do you have?"

"Only one to date," Lucius replied calmly, not caught off-guard in the least by her abrupt question.

"Oh," Hermione murmured as she tended to the food. She had been expecting him to have at least ten in a manor as large as his, but perhaps she had gotten it all wrong. As if sensing her curiosity, Lucius' voice drifted over to her above the sound of her open and closing cupboard doors.

"I was fortunate to procure the elf after Potter kindly rid me of Dobby."

Ignoring his sarcastic tone, Hermione glanced over her shoulder to reignite her staunch argument against him on elfish rights.

"Harry was right to free Dobby. You weren't exactly treating him very nicely and Dobby did actually want to be free."

"That is hardly an excuse to rob me of my servant," Lucius countered in his languid speech while Hermione did her best not to get worked up over his snobbish outlook.

"Well, I'm sure it was character-building for you," she retorted before coughing as smoke and steam enveloped her face upon opening the oven door. When she had got the unwanted carbon dioxide out of her lungs, she leaned back against the counter for a moment to catch her breath and glance over at Lucius who was sitting back in his chair at ease.

"I hardly think losing Dobby could be called character-building compared to the likes of Azkaban," Lucius said with a dark smile that barely lifted his lips and sent a shiver of fear down Hermione's spine.

"I guess not," Hermione agreed tonelessly as she imagined the black despair that ate at the prisoners of the hellhole known as Azkaban. It wasn't a pretty picture to see, and Hermione was strongly reminded of the vast changes that had come about in Lucius since his imprisonment. There was a dark tension hanging in the space between them as both their minds were filled with thoughts and dread about the war and the terrible atrocities under Voldemort's reign. In an effort to close off the portal of memories that she was sure weren't ready to be shared or faced by them, Hermione changed the subject back to food, hoping it would erase the bitter hardness that had crept into Lucius' features.

"Have you never had food made by human hands then?" she asked lightly, ignoring that fact that her question was both sudden and unrelated to their last topic.

"No, not since my mo–" Lucius began before he suddenly clamped his jaw shut and a strange anger appeared along the fine creases around his flint-like eyes. Hermione watched him cautiously for any signs of turbulence that might break forth from within him, but was mildly relieved when he did nothing but breathe out slowly and regain his control.

"No, I have not eaten food made by human hands."

Taking his guarded response to be the end of their conversation, Hermione turned back to her cooking in defeat, her mind wondering if Lucius had been about to say what she thought he would say. Mother. It wasn't hard to imagine that that was the right word, but it felt somehow weird to imagine Lucius having a mother. Hermione didn't want to be ignorant and narrow-minded, but she couldn't help thinking that it was almost impossible for someone like him to have had a mother in a real sense. Most people with good mothers would have never turned out like Lucius Malfoy had. Pondering the subject as she fetched lemon curd for the tart she was going to serve for pudding, Hermione let silence settle over them once more.

 

Lucius watched Granger move around the kitchen with curiosity; intrigued by the way she moved. Every flex of her body seemed to be a reminder of her youth, slightly awkward from her lack of complete confidence, but holding the shimmer of a gracefulness he could see she would achieve some day. It felt utterly bizarre for him to watch someone cook, as he had never been witness to it before. At the manor, elves had always done the job, and having always lived a life of privileged luxury, Lucius had never been exposed to the effects of menial labour.

Watching the young witch flit about between the counters with such unexpected enthusiasm was leading him into thinking perhaps he had missed something in his life. Having been born into a position in blood hierarchy that had demanded his arrogance from the start, Lucius had never before felt the urge to stop and consider the mortal aspects of preparing food, let alone watch it. However, there was something refreshing about the way Granger went about the task, although he couldn't quite put his finger on the exact point of why he found the process to be pleasing. He was still reeling from the surprise of seeing her treat the house-elf with so much unwarranted deference, and seeing Granger cooking only added to his suspicion that she was of another species.

For a man who was admittedly ignorant of common things such as household affairs, Lucius found it interesting to see how things were done despite his aristocratic upbringing. He supposed it was largely due to the fact that his subject of intrigue was a Muggleborn whom he had been puzzling over for days. Had it been the elf who was cooking, he was sure he wouldn't have even bothered making an appearance in the kitchen, but seeing Granger was…different. There was something surprisingly feminine about her when she pottered about the kitchen as if it were her natural domain. He had never previously classed Granger as a typical girl or woman as he had been so accustomed to simply knowing her as 'Potter's friend' in his mind, but being witness of her working in the kitchen seemed to be changing his opinions.

He found himself unconsciously comparing Granger to the only woman he knew well; Narcissa. Of course, it was unfair on the little Muggleborn for him to draw her to comparison against the likes of his wife, but it was the only reference point he had in that moment. They were so different, Granger and Narcissa, and it was that unbridgeable gap between their characters that made Lucius wonder if Granger was completely human. Whenever he thought of Narcissa, Lucius was reminded of her infinite grace, beauty and sophisticated intelligence that garnered his utmost respect for his life partner, but his wife seemed distinctly lacklustre compared to the fire that burned in Granger. Hermione Granger certainly wasn't beautiful; Lucius didn't even think she could be counted as pretty, although there was something captivating about her eyes.

They were brown, but not a dull, muddy shade that he knew Draco had accused Granger of having in the past, but something that held much more depth. There was a strange sort of wisdom to be had in her thoughtful eyes, although Lucius would have been the last person alive to ever admit it. Studying her movements, he wondered what it was about her that had him so fascinated. She was so obvious in her Gryffindor honesty, yet so evasive in her feelings of humanity. He had never encountered anything quite like her, and the untameable sense of freedom in her spirit drew him like a moth to the flame.

Having always been someone bound by loyalties and a sense of duty, Lucius found a certain liberation in musing over the dancing youth of Granger, able to feel a tangent of the constant freedom she obviously felt. He remained adamant about his lack of trust for food prepared by humans, but he hadn't made a real fight for it, as he knew there was little to fear with Granger. She was no fool and she would know better than to poison him. There was a certain fear and apprehension against him, judging by the way she stalled a little in her behaviour, but oddly enough, Lucius had felt touched by the way she had blushed and rambled in that nervous way that made her appear so strangely charming.

Lucius was content to let the silence drift over them, satisfied with the simple occupation of being the sole audience to some grand domestic act, his interest unwavering as his eyes followed Granger's every movement. It was oddly soothing to see her working with such concentration, and never shirking from a single thing, unlike some. Her independence and striving for both freedom and equality made her appear strong in Lucius' opinion, and surprisingly, he was pleased by it. Perhaps always being the dominant factor in every relationship he had ever had with a living being had rendered him bored, but Lucius reluctantly acknowledged that Hermione Granger was a new and mesmerizing object to be studied.

 

"As much as I am loathe to admit myself as being in the wrong, I will confess that that was a fine meal indeed."

Hermione smiled with a slight rise of colour in her cheeks as she took his compliment with awkward handling. His magnanimous moods had lessened of late as his true honesty had kicked in, but there was something about his begrudging tone that convinced Hermione into knowing he had spoken the truth. The truth… It was something that almost frightened her, now that she knew Lucius a little better. In the beginning, she had constantly badgered him about facing the truth so much, that she was surprised he had even allowed her childish whining to pass without lifting anything but his voice, which had been infrequent in itself. No, the truth was a lot colder, harsher, more immense in its raw power, especially when applied to someone like Lucius, who had ignored the truth for possibly a lifetime.

All the thoughts and doubts that niggled at her had Hermione reverting back to the withdrawn mood she had woken up in that morning, and any excitement at cooking had fizzled out a while ago. Glancing up as her now-empty plate was taken away from before her by long, bony fingers, Hermione held her tongue as Kreacher made his return back to service, blatantly unable to keep away from his house-elf duties for long. The sigh she omitted as the elf cleared the table was echoed by a weary exhale from Lucius, who was sitting across from her, wearing a somewhat flat expression.

Meeting his eyes had never been a problem for Hermione; it was the withdrawal that caused her to struggle. His pale grey irises circled a black hole that seemed to whisper of knowledge beyond any normal fount, but the entrance remained guarded from her. If eyes were the windows to the soul, she had no chance of finding a door to let her in unless Lucius specifically showed her, although she hardly thought that that would happen in this lifetime.

Hermione remained silent as she held his gaze steadily, hoping for some answer to be had in the depths of his enthralling eyes. Their silences could be comfortable, convenient or awkward, depending on the situation, but Hermione acknowledged there was a level of higher communication to be had when they connected through their eyes. Lucius would tell her nothing and Hermione could ask him nothing, but he didn't seem to reproach her for searching nonetheless in the veiled windows of his soul, if he had one. On the contrary, he seemed to invite her to inspect him, and Hermione wasn't sure if she should be relieved or irritated by his openness that could easily be mistaken for pure arrogance.

"I have some work to do," his quietened voice announced unexpectedly, the unusual softness of his tone yet another show of his flawless skill as master of deception. It made it hard for Hermione to doubt him when he moved with such certainty; she had thought he might have been lost in a web of profound thoughts like her, but his easy transition into normality brought about confusion and uncertainty in Hermione. She didn't reply when he excused himself in a murmur and could only sit and watch as he left the room without hurry, his footsteps sounding just like she imagined his heart to beat; steady, rhythmic and certain. Always certain.

Having nothing to do now that her only companion and object of interest had gone, Hermione supposed it wasn't good of her to gain crow's feet by sitting there moping, and followed Lucius' example. Upon leaving the room, she realised that she didn't know where to go and what to do, and paused at the foot of the stairwell to think out her immediate plans a little more carefully.

She had never been depressed like this before, so she couldn't make any worthwhile comparisons, but she was sure that her old self wouldn't have allowed herself to fall into such a pit of despair. Staring up at the gloomy staircase, Hermione imagined her soul to be staring up from the bottom of a merciless hole, eyes fixed on the light in the distance that was the only thing from stopping her going mad. In reality, her only light at that moment was Lucius, and it vexed her as much as it soothed her.

It didn't seem right to have to fall into submission at the feet of the enemy, but then again, Lucius was no longer an adversary of any sort, besides the occasional times of constructive debating. It confused Hermione's sense of morals even further than it was already; was she supposed to be feeling so welcome to her old enemy? It didn't seem right to succumb so easily, but it didn't seem entirely wrong either…

Her feet began to walk, and before she had time to concentrate on her movements, she was standing on the very top floor of the house, faced by the only two doors that opened out onto the narrow hallway. She had already lit her wand as she had known it would be dark, and silently stared at the brass name plates on the doors under the white light of Lumos. Hesitating for a moment as she vacillated, Hermione pondered the purpose of her visit to the deserted quarters of the lonely house, but didn't bother thinking it out much longer as she acted upon impulse and opened the door that bore the name, Regulus Arcturus Black.

The room was black in accordance to the lack of light, and when Hermione entered, she was assailed by the hinted smell of mothballs and a mustiness that seemed to pervade everything left abandoned for long lengths of time. She didn't know why she had come up here to look around the old rooms of people long gone, but somehow, the emptiness gave her a little solace, able to run along beside her in its sympathy of her inner state.

With detached curiosity, she wandered around the room of the wizarding world's unknown hero and the 'good' son, one finger trailing across the dust-covered surfaces while she held her wand aloft. Turning to look at a weathered photograph tacked on the pale silver of the silk-lined walls, Hermione caught sight of the Slytherin Quidditch team of 1975; happy and careless in a moment of lost time.

Leaning in to peer better at the black-haired boy in the middle of the formation, Hermione caught sight of Regulus in all his smug glory, not waving his hands like some of his teammates, but appearing far more calm and composed as his slim frame knelt upright and regal. It reminded her of Lucius. Staring at his smirking face, Hermione wondered what life must have been like for Regulus. It still struck her as both horrific and incredible that he had lived such a short life, yet he had achieved more than some who had lived five times his age.

Staring at his face that clearly bore the same patrician features as that of Sirius and other pure-bloods, Hermione tried to read what he was like by studying his muted expressions and his eyes. From all around Regulus, waves and triumphant shakes of fists distracted Hermione's eyes from her target, but soon, she was able to focus on only Regulus, and found herself becoming more and more convinced about a new idea.

There was something about the youngest Black that had Hermione's thoughts constantly returning back to Lucius. After a moment of thinking, she came to the conclusion that it was probably due to the fact that Regulus looked guarded and unreachable, even in his state of casual pride. The arrogance and indifference of Lucius were there, along with the secretive and untrusting sense of being.

With a sigh, Hermione stepped back away from the picture to address the new burning in her heart that raged like a hellfire; she was dying to ask Regulus what it had been like, to choose justice over loyalty. Lucius had evoked some part of her to offer her promise that she would always remain completely loyal only to herself, but she highly doubted she could have ever done what Regulus had done. To have gone against the beliefs woven around his entire existence…

He was a hero, much like how Professor Snape was one. As she left the room, Hermione noted with a mirthless little smile, how the real heroes seemed to be the one who hadn't ever intended it that way.

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione arrived back at the door to her room in automatic direction, content to hole herself up for the rest of the evening as there was nothing more to be wanted for her depression. Glancing at the small clock hanging on the wall above her vanity case, Hermione reasoned that it was getting close to true nightfall, and welcomed the thought of an early night. She undressed with absent-minded slowness, too busy thinking to pay much attention to which hole she was putting her arm through or which way round her nightie went.

When she was finally ready for bed, she stopped at her small desk to look over the Christmas presents she hadn't paid much attention to since the moment of receiving them, and was captivated by the book on top of the pile. Reaching out to take it in her curious hands, she felt the suppleness of the dark leather and the light indentations of the fine embellishment the crafter had created upon the cover. Flipping it open, she realised that the cream pages were temptingly blank, and before she had time to resist, she had sought out a quill and written her name on the first page, followed by her favourite passage in literature.

Children of the future age,

Reading this indignant page,

Know that in a former time,

Love, sweet Love, was thought a crime!

There was something incredibly sweet yet anguishing about those four lines of William Blake, and Hermione was glad she had discovered them after an afternoon of boredom had spurred her into perusing her parent's shelves of poetry. Satisfied with the way her handwriting looked as thought it belonged on the thick page of the empty journal, Hermione closed the book and set it aside for future consideration as she still couldn't remember who had given it to her.

Slipping in between the cold sheets of her bed, she shuffled around to find a comfortable position, but upon attaining it, realised that she hadn't bid Lucius goodnight and felt a strong sense of obligation to fulfil her daily routine. Reluctant, but unable to fight the firm sense of duty beating with her heart, she climbed back out of bed and left her room to knock next door, unknowing whether he had returned to his room or not.

She was about to give up on Lucius being there, when the door suddenly opened with barely a creak of the hinges and she was faced with an open doorway to a lightless room. Alarm spread through her sense as she imagined she might have accidentally opened the door somehow without Lucius' permission, but she was relieved to see him standing at the side of his bed, looking at her with expectancy.

"Do you need anything?" he asked in the more thoughtful tone that often slipped over him at nightfall. Hermione shook her head as she lingered on the threshold, uncertain as to if she was to remain outside or not.

"No. I was just going to say I'm off to bed."

"I see," Lucius replied in an oddly polite and detached way as though they were mere strangers in the street. Hermione was about to forget the incongruity of his behaviour and wish him goodnight, when the moonshine that flooded in through the window gleamed across the glassed surface of the picture frame propped up on his bedside table and made her pause.

Lucius seemed to catch her line of gaze, for he glanced back at the picture and gave her a look of challenge that dared her to ask the question that was bubbling foremost in her mind. Without giving much thought on the matter, Hermione impulsively walked past the threshold and towards him, her eyes flickering back and forth between Lucius and the new object of her curiosity.

"Who's in that picture?" she asked him in a voice of hushed inquisitiveness as she stopped to stand a short distance away from him. She watched as his pale eyes narrowed in calculation while a muscle leapt in his hard jaw.

"As I said, no one you know," Lucius answered eventually, doing his best to evade directness, but doing little to dampen Hermione's curiosity.

"I don't mind hearing explanations," she offered lightly, which seemed to relieve Lucius of his tension somewhat. She allowed him time to adjust as he turned back to look at the photograph, and she took advantage of his lack of attention to step closer so that she was standing by his side. At that shorter distance, she was able to discern the three figures clearly as they posed for the camera, the magical photograph allowing them to continue moving although the shot had already been captured.

At first glance, Hermione assumed the young blond boy, who looked to be around five and was shuffling a little in his mother's lap was Draco. But when she studied the mother and father of the family, she realised that they were definitely not Lucius and Narcissa. There was certainly some strong resemblance of Lucius to the wizard standing partially behind his wife with a hand proudly resting on her shoulder, but there was also a strong difference that banished all doubt about it being Lucius. The woman in the picture was a little like Narcissa in looks, but far more beautiful, in Hermione's opinion. There were no signs of maliciousness to be seen in the sweet lines of her face, and she looked quite angelic with her golden hair.

There was a perceptible sense of unity in the photograph that seemed to radiate from the subjects as they smiled and posed, their happiness feeling remarkably genuine.

"That," Lucius said with a respectful gesture of his hand to the woman, "Is my mother."

Hermione stared at the picture in silence, unable to process the thought of now-Lucius and then-Lucius. It was infinitely bizarre to see the child Lucius turning to scowl at the camera before his mother laughingly chided him while in the background, the father who was presumably Abraxas Malfoy, looked on with the rigid air of a Victorian gentleman.

"She was…everything," Lucius murmured quietly, his voice soft in the darkness as Hermione remained unable to tear her eyes away.

"She's very beautiful," she commented in a whisper when she had regained enough control over her mind to form a sentence.

"Yes, she is," Lucius agreed in a tone that in any lesser man would have sounded wistful. Instead, it sounded like pride mixed with nostalgia, although Hermione couldn't be sure as she had never heard Lucius to use that particular voice.

"Is that your father?" she asked with a slight gesture of her head towards the stern-looking man in the photograph.

"Yes," Lucius replied with a slight bitterness, though when Hermione cast a sideways glance at him, his lips seemed to be twisted in a grim smile.

"And you," Hermione finished as she pointed to the child who was currently busy pleading for something while his mother seemed to be laughing good-naturedly.

"Indeed."

Quietude settled over them as each studied the picture, Lucius looking thoughtful in his obvious entertaining of memories, and Hermione unable to overcome her astonishment at seeing evidence of Lucius as a child. It just didn't seem to go at all; she knew Lucius Malfoy to be an arrogant, selfish man who was cold-hearted a lot of the time, but somehow, none of that made sense when she saw the proof that he too, had once been completely innocent. She couldn't stop herself from giving a small laugh as the child Lucius pulled on his mother's hair and Abraxas rapped him sharply on the head to get him to behave.

"You look happy," Hermione remarked with a lingering smile as she watched the little family remain in their bubble of indestructible harmony, turning to meet Lucius' gaze as he stared at her openly.

"I was."

"What happened to her?" Hermione asked in a whisper again as her eyes flitted back to the picture, where the Malfoys had seemingly settled to pose for the camera once again.

"She died three months after this picture was taken," Lucius replied simply, his strangely nonchalant tone causing Hermione to look up at him sharply as she grew suspicious of what he was hiding.

"And you miss her?"

"Very much."

His easy admitting of love for his mother almost frightened Hermione; he had never been so open about his past before, but perhaps he had had enough of suffering in silence. She watched him as he reached out with his arm and lightly stroked the face of his smiling mother with one finger before he withdrew his hand and straightened up. Hermione copied his movements, wanting to blend in and not shatter whatever insane urge he was acting upon that was allowing him to confide to her something so obviously intimate to his heart.

"I was my father's heir and my mother's son," Lucius stated quietly with a slight look of dark amusement on his normally guarded face as he continued to eye the picture. "Shame that I had to lose the one I had actually hoped to keep."

The morbid factuality in which his words were spoken caused Hermione to shudder as she realised how he had probably been only able to direct his limited love at his mother, incapable of extending the field of whatever devotion he had felt. Realising from the way he turned to her with a cold gleam of his eyes that the moment of secrets was over, Hermione gave a small nod to acquiesce his unspoken request for privacy and retreated with a murmured "goodnight". Returning to her own room once again, she clambered into bed with thoughts of mothers and sons overwhelming her mind and though she was still reeling from the shock of the revelation, there was also a small bud of optimism that appeared within her.

Perhaps there was still some hope for Lucius.

38\. A Forgotten Past

With a startled gasp, Hermione jerked upright in bed, feeling as though a bucket of ice cold water had been thrown over her. Beneath the twisted sheets, her legs trembled in a reverberation of her terrible memories and her heart pounded furiously as yet another nightmare slowly loosened its grip on her ravaged mind. Staring around the darkened room with wide eyes, she panted for breath as her phantom pain slowly crept back into the hidden recesses of her muscle memory and the calm of reality washed over her.

Cooled by the air that breezed across her sweat-beaded face, she waited for her terror to settle as the last echoes of Bellatrix's unbearable voice faded away. A crack of white light sliced through the thin gap in the heavy velvet curtains and in a sudden fit to escape the darkness that so tormented her, Hermione scrambled out of bed and hurried over to the window. Wrenching the curtains back, her eyes were momentarily blinded by the dazzling light of the clouded sun that was reflected off the thick covering of white across the ground.

It had snowed in the night.

The sight of so much snowfall after so many years of its absence brought some cheer to Hermione as she leaned against the window, pressing her palms against the icy cold panes of the glass. Snow clouds hid the sky in an arc of pale grey while all around, the black-faced houses lined around the little square were roofed with pure white snow. Looking down into the small area fenced by iron wrought railings, Hermione felt a sense of nostalgia tinge her thoughts as she stared at the leafless trees, their dark trunks and knotted branches withered in the cold. They looked like odd, twisted bodies frozen in the snow and there was something terribly ironic about them. Despite the eeriness of the deadened trees, Hermione found the view to be one of melancholic beauty, the flawless white of the snow proving nature's unquestionable perfection.

Continuing to look at the black-barked trees, Hermione was inevitably reminded of death and the dead. It had not been so long ago since Voldemort had been alive; only a mere three years in which the wizarding world had yet to recover from. Hermione had always known it would take decades to restore stability fully to the wizarding community, but sometimes, even she had forgotten that there had even been a war. Sometimes, when staring out the window and getting lost in her own head, she forgot that people had actually died… At first, the irreversible demise of her close friends and acquaintances had been unbelievably shocking, thrusting her into a mode of disbelief that the loved ones had died and were not coming back. However, she doubted her grief had been anything compared to those of the Weasleys and others who had lost actual kin. It sounded bad to admit it, but while Hermione missed Fred, Lupin, Tonks and others, she couldn't imagine the depth of anguish those of their direct families suffered.

Death…it sounded so hollow and meaningless in her mind. What is death? Hermione could provide no real answer to pacify herself with. Her thoughts turned back to the war; a war she had inadvertently grown up in. It hadn't felt like a war then; she had been too preoccupied by the smaller scope of her and her friends' mission for the Horcruxes to see the whole picture. It was only now, after the ashes had settled that she was beginning to see why it had been called a war. Many had probably lost their friends and relatives, if not their own lives, but Hermione had trouble trying to imagine the vast extent of damage.

She had seen some of the devastation Voldemort had wreaked in his mad path for conquest, but she had been too young and too fresh from youth to understand fully the actual meaning of all the burnt corpses and crumbling buildings. She had been too young for war…

The experience had undoubtedly affected her, but to what degree? She had recovered enough to return for her year of NEWTs at Hogwarts before finally graduating, but even studying had begun to lose its original appeal. Then, the nightmares had started, and Hermione had struggled to stay on top of everything as her emotions had grown confusingly uncontrollable. It had been frustrating and perplexing for her when she had first started being thrown about by her feelings; Hermione had always been accustomed to being in control and the sudden loss of it had left her stumbling in the dark. She had managed to hold off the bubbling stream of emotions for a few years as she hadn't wanted to worry anyone, but when Lucius had arrived on the scene, the dams holding the feelings back had been broken within her.

Yet again, Hermione found herself grateful for the fact that Lucius was with her; her friends would always be there to support her, but none of them could offer the calming presence of the elder Malfoy. It struck her as ironic that it was a Malfoy of all people who brought her a measure of peace, but Hermione was past caring who he was or what he was. Sometimes, she had missed having parents of magical blood, and though she felt guilty for even thinking it, she did occasionally wonder what life would have been like, had she been born of a magical family. As much as she loved her parents and wouldn't want to change them for all the world, there were moments when she suspected things would be easier if her mum and dad were actually a witch and wizard.

Lucius provided an example of what it would have been like for Hermione to have an older wizard to learn from; though he certainly wasn't someone she would have liked as a relative of any sort, he was more than adequate as a role model when he put his mind to it. In a time when she was feeling especially volatile at heart and unbearably vulnerable, Lucius' presence was a great source of comfort for Hermione, although she doubted she would ever admit it to anybody. Having spent most of her life in the magical world, always herding up Harry and Ron and inevitably looking after them, it felt relieving for her to be looked after for once. Not that the boys wouldn't have cared for her or done anything for her, had she asked them to, but being under Lucius' watch was a lot different and perhaps even…better.

She had always been the mature one in their trio; the one that the others relied upon for everything ranging from information to simple logic. She wasn't used to being able to let go and relax completely as her emotions had tended to be bottled up quite tightly during the era when she hadn't been so affected by the curse. However, now that she did suffer bouts of immaturity and infuriating hysteria, it was a blessing to have Lucius waiting at her side. Despite the idiosyncrasy of the concept, Hermione knew she could entrust him with her safety, and the lack of responsibility tended to render her suddenly light and almost whimsical. The balance in her life was thrown askew as her previously neglected emotions poured into her spirit.

Having had enough of thinking, Hermione turned away from the window and went about getting washed and dressed, promising herself a nice, relaxing bath later on in the evening as her muscles ached from her nightly strains. Dressing in her simply witches' robes of deep blue, she charmed her hair to behave a little tamer than was natural and twisted it up in a loose bun. She had to mentally chide herself as she continued to regard herself in the mirror of her vanity case with only vain intent and hurriedly sought a distraction in her pile of Christmas presents.

It took her a little while to identify each present with the benefactor, but she finally managed to remember who had given her what. All, except one beautiful, leather-bound journal which seemed to draw her bibliophilic spirit to it. Ignoring the other gifts, Hermione respectfully picked up the wondrous book and ran her fingers lightly over the embellishments with fascination, frowning as she tried to think who might have given it to her.

Maybe Harry secretly left it here? Or Ginny? Or Ron? No, not Ron. He wouldn't do something like this… He wouldn't now anyways…

The soft leather stretched over the hard cover of the diary felt strangely enticing, and Hermione spent a long minute exploring the intricate patterns that decorated the cover before opening it. She smiled at the sight of the quality parchment that was not too thin and not too thick; perfect in every way. Turning the pages to add another entry, she passed the page where she had written the short extract of Blake and was about to turn to a blank leaf when she suddenly doubled back and stared at the four lines she had written the night before.

The handwriting had changed; what was usually her neat, upright cursive had become slanted, thin and curiously obsolete-looking calligraphy. The words too, had been altered.

'Tis true that love was but a crime,

A curse in a dark and hooded time,

A blight that drove our kith away

And led our kin to wander stray.

Hermione stared at the words in frozen shock. She was certain she hadn't written them at any time while under consciousness, and though there was a possibility that she had written it whilst sleepwalking, there were reasons to doubt the idea very much. Even if she had written the new verse while under the influence of Bellatrix's curse, surely the handwriting would have either been hers or formed some kind of resemblance to the style used when she was awake? Besides, the original verse which she had written before going to bed should have been visible, but it was nowhere to be seen. The new lines appeared to have been written directly where the old verse had been.

A heavy sense of dread filled her as she remembered a diary that had similarly replaced the writer's words with its own; the diary of one Tom Riddle. Hermione shuddered as she remembered the horror of that year; a year when Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets had been unwittingly opened by a possessed Ginny and Hermione herself had been amongst the few who were Petrified by the Basilisk. If she closed her eyes, she could remember the moment in the library when she had struck gold with her finding of the identity of the secret monster and had taken to looking around the corner with a mirror. It had been an all-too-necessary precaution that had most likely saved Hermione's life. All she could remember seeing were terrible yellow eyes that glowed of death…

Yellow eyes!

She jolted back at her sudden revelation; she always dreamt of Bellatrix having yellow eyes even though she was sure that the mad Black sister had actually had dark irises in reality. Perhaps her mind threw all her bad experiences together when she was unconscious and melded them to form one hellish nightmare. That would at least explain why she had been dreaming of snakes of late, although her dream-serpents tended to have grey eyes…

Hermione turned her attention back to the book at hand and frowned as she contemplated its properties. Pulling out her wand from her left sleeve, which had a subtle holster stitched in like most wizarding garments, she passed the thin stick of vine over the book while muttering several Detection spells. Her frown formed deeper as the diary came out as lacking of any malignant features, or in fact, any magical qualities at all, but she couldn't quite believe the outcome. Either she was right and her spells had been wrong (a thing that seemed highly unlikely, judging by her impeccable standard of spellwork), or she was wrong both times and the book was simply what it appeared to be; a book.

Slowly lowering herself into the chair standing before her desk, Hermione pushed everything else on the table to the back that was pushed up against the wall and set the diary down on the cleared surface. Without touching it, she observed the innocent-looking book with a vein of suspicion, unable to accept that it might indeed be truly harmless. Even if it were nothing but a little prank, Hermione thought it deserved some investigation.

Glancing up at the clock hanging on the wall to her right, she noticed that it was mid-morning already and Lucius would certainly be awake. She nibbled on her bottom lip, a habit she had picked up from her OWL-revising days, and wondered whether she should call him or not. It seemed only right for her to ask him to examine the book as he was probably an expert in Dark objects, seeing as he seemed to own a entire houseful, but Hermione found there was a certain reluctance in that idea…

It was foolish to be swayed by her pride in that moment, but the stubborn, egotistical part in her argued that she was an adult now, and capable of handling magical artefacts. Although the quieter, more cautious side of her knew that it was silly to think of it in such a way, the arrogance in Hermione urged her to take matters into her own hands and reap the glory later on. It was an undeniably Slytherin approach, but Hermione could not quieten the inner voice within her that told her she was accomplished enough to deal with the situation on her own, and she was torn by the different streaks of clashing personalities embedded within her person. In a sudden effort to drown at the nagging of her thoughts and seal a fate that she seemed to be dithering over, she snatched up her quill from where it was resting nearby and having dipped it in ink, began writing beneath the four lines.

My name is Hermione Jean Granger. I am a Gryffindor at heart.

Hermione smiled as she wrote the second sentence, aware that it was an effort to convince herself that that was what she truly was. She let her shoulders slump a little as she sagged in relief, doubts chased away by the fact that her writing wasn't disappearing, or even doing anything abnormal except drying on the page. Perhaps she had written the four lines that struck her as not hers. The handwriting was certainly not hers, but maybe she had unintentionally mirrored someone else's when she had written the unrecognisable words while possessed. It would almost make sense, had it not been for the fact that Hermione clearly remembered writing the short excerpt of Blake the night before. She could have sworn her entire book collection on it, but maybe she had dreamt it all…

Her confusion cleared a little while her heart sank low at the sight of her newly written line suddenly undulating a little as the black-inked words began to fade in tone until they had completely disappeared from the page, along with the four lines above. Hermione stared at the page that had blanked itself in speechless shock; her return to reality was slow at first, but once the horror of the situation struck her, panic began to pump erratically into her blood as she pushed back in her chair to stumble to her feet and stare at the open book with terrified eyes.

It was behaving too alike to Riddle's diary to put her at any sort of ease.

Enchanted to meet you, Hermione.

Hermione noticed the pun of 'enchanted' with a dark spot of amusement before she sobered up again at the thought of what she was facing. For several long seconds, she deliberated on what to do, uncertain whether she should simply obliterate the book for ease of conscience. She inwardly debated with herself as she continued to stare at the spiky, slanting lettering of the unknown hand, completely stumped as to who, what and where the book had come from. Half-heartedly, she wondered if one of her friends might have slipped it in amongst her presents as some sort of joke, but that seemed highly unlikely, seeing as a cursed diary didn't seem to be a particularly amusing object to people who had been cajoled and possessed by one in the past. There was the tiny possibility of it being something other than a maliciously enchanted diary, but Hermione doubted it.

Running her tongue over her teeth as she tried to settle her aggravation, she picked up her quill again and dipping it slowly and thoughtfully into the inkpot, brought it back to the open page to hesitate with the point hovering over it. A part of her inwardly screamed to her that it was foolish to pursue her inane curiosity without so much as alerting Lucius of any potential harm that might come to her, but Hermione didn't really care. Life seemed to be mildly acceptable at the best of times; she couldn't see it getting much better and there didn't seem to be anything to lose…

Filled with a sudden determination and thrill at the thought of corrupting and even destroying herself, Hermione unconsciously bit the inside of her cheek as she began to write.

Who are you?

Her sharp excitement at doing the unwise and unadvisable buzzed all the more, watching the black gloss of ink dry as she waited for something to happen. Her question was a little more than Gryffindor in its directness, but there was no need to beat about the bush. Her heart thumped louder when she saw all the writing on the page melt into nonexistence before it was replaced by the thin, scratchy handwriting that was beginning to be personified to her.

A book of many memories.

Hermione half-sighed as she considered what to write next, wanting to be able to ask quick, effective queries without getting too drawn into whatever lay behind the book's mastery.

Are you a cursed diary?

Again, it was bold and perhaps a little audacious, but Hermione silently reasoned with herself that it was better to be straight-forward and get it all over with. She watched her writing vanish as an invisible hand wrote back.

An enchanted book.

Barely waiting a second after the sentence was completed, Hermione began scrawling her next question down.

Who created you?

My creator.

"Cheeky little thing," Hermione muttered to herself as she smirked briefly at the laconic answers. It seemed the book was all too eager to hide vital information.

Who is your creator?

A good wizard.

Did he use the Dark Arts to create you?

It depends on what the definition of 'Dark Arts' comprises of.

Dark Arts: magic generally not used by the public and discouraged by most.

No.

Then you aren't a Horcrux?

No.

Hermione sighed in relief at seeing the written evidence of the denial, but then wanted to laugh at her own stupidity for even assuming that the book was telling the truth. There was nothing to say that it wasn't a Horcrux. Nothing except for the written word of the object at question. It seemed unreasonable to trust the dubious book so quickly without much investigation, but Hermione could feel herself instantly enveloped by an unnatural glow of pleasantness as the thought of destroying the book came to mind. While she hadn't ruled out the option of eliminating the book, the strange bubble of a happiness that didn't seem to be hers usurped her full control over herself and made her want to do nothing but keep the book safe. A distant part of her mind seemed to be struggling to point out that the book was emitting some kind of magical powers that were obviously affecting her, but Hermione felt happy and content to smile at the book and resume writing.

Tell me about your creator.

There is not much to tell.

He must have been clever, to make you.

He was.

You are not a Horcrux?

Certainly not.

But you were made of Dark Magic.

Hardly.

Then what?

I was created of a magic that was a secret in itself, but not Dark.

When were you made?

A long time ago.

More specific?

I would not know. I am only an enchanted book.

Have you got anything actually written in you?

Memories.

Of what?

Of my creator.

Can I see them?

No.

Why?

Eyes could not see them then; eyes will not see them now. 

Was your creator pure-blood?

He was of good blood.

Hermione paused to wonder what it meant by that. She had been hoping to uncover some clues about who the creator had been by narrowing the suspects down to either pure-bloods or otherwise, but the book seemed to be rather equivocate in its answers. The short, cryptic replies made Hermione irritated, but also unable to simply stop writing back as her desire to know could hardly be stoppered, now that it had been unleashed. Biting back her annoyance, she put her quill to parchment once again as the strangely satisfied feeling rippled over her.

Have you heard of Voldemort?

I have.

He was defeated three years ago by someone called Harry Potter.

Ah.

Hermione stared at the monosyllabic response and was immediately reminded of Lucius. She was sure it would have been something he would have said, probably with a hint of dry sarcasm. It puzzled her that the book seemed to be somewhat limited in its expressing of its views, and she wondered if whoever had created the diary had forgotten to give it any scope of human feelings to imitate. She quickly did some mental maths as she calculated the book's potential age of existence, and guessed that if it knew of Voldemort, it could possibly be at least fifty years old. She shuddered at the thought of it being anything like Riddle's diary, but so far, it proved to be far less intimidating and more ineffective in its charm. She could almost imagine the character behind the book being a dry-voiced, reserved, somewhat snide being…

Harry Potter…

So far, the book had failed to ask any questions of its own, which Hermione found a little unusual, seeing as she would have wanted to know the day, month, year, lifetime had she been the book. When she saw nothing else added to the name of her best friend, she assumed that the book wished for her to elaborate more on the story of Harry Potter. Taking a deep breath to gather her thoughts, she began scratching away without hesitation, lost in her essay-writing mood.

Harry Potter is the son of Lily and James Potter. The Potters were members of a resistance party called the Order of the Phoenix whose sole purpose was to defeat Voldemort during the First Wizarding War. The Order was led by Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School and the Potters were amongst those who strived to oust Voldemort and his supporters, the Death Eaters. One of the Death Eaters (someone called Severus Snape) managed to overhear part of a prophecy that spoke of a boy who could defeat Voldemort and Snape reported it back to his then-master. Voldemort took the prophecy to heart (a silly thing to do) and came to the decision that the Potters' baby son Harry was the boy that the prophecy had spoken of. 

On the 31st October 1981, Voldemort came to kill the Potters and after murdering James and Lily, he tried to kill baby Harry, but the curse backfired because of the protection on Harry that Lily had unknowingly put on him.

Voldemort remained supposedly dead for eleven years before he began to make appearances. It was 1994 when he finally managed to return to his human form. Up until that time, Ron Weasley (a friend) and I, Hermione, had spent our time helping Harry as he fought against Voldemort. Dumbledore recalled the Order again and the Second Wizarding War began after then. 

It's a really long story to write about, so I'll keep it relatively short by just telling you that the reason Voldemort didn't die fully was because he had made seven Horcruxes outside of his body. One of them (Slytherin's locket), we later found out to have already been stolen by one of the past Death Eaters, Regulus Black, who died when he was only 18. It's very sad, but his act was heroic. He was the only one who found out about Voldemort's secret and acted on it. Anyway, Harry, Ron and I went on a mission to find and destroy all of Voldemort's Horcruxes, and when we had got rid of them all, Harry and Voldemort duelled while everyone was watching during the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry cast an Expelliarmus and Voldemort used the Killing Curse, but because the wand Voldemort was using actually turned out to belong to Harry, the curse backfired and Voldemort was killed by his own spell for the second time.

Hermione briefly looked over her short summary of Voldemort and Harry's story with a slight swell of pride; she was pleased to see how quickly and efficiently she had managed to sum up an entire War in four paragraphs. A stray thought popped into her head as she roughly reviewed her words and she was distracted by the notion of writing something in a future edition of Hogwarts: A History that would include details about the final battle and of course, Harry. She felt a flicker of annoyance at seeing all her work suddenly disappear as the book absorbed them, but forgot to be irritated as she eagerly awaited a reply.

What an interesting story. It is joyful news to hear of the Dark Lord's demise.

Hermione smiled broadly as she could only agree heartily on the matter and waited impatiently as more was added to the line.

This…Regulus Black. Did he have any family?

He had a brother (Sirius) who lived on for a while. Sirius was Harry's godfather and was imprisoned in Azkaban for thirteen years under false accusations, but escaped and rejoined the Order when the fight with Voldemort broke out.

How did Sirius die?

Harry was tricked by Voldemort into thinking that he was holding Sirius hostage in the Ministry's Department of Mysteries, and went there to rescue Sirius. It turned out that Voldemort was actually after a record of the prophecy and we found Death Eaters waiting for us when we arrived. Eventually, members of the Order arrived to take over and Sirius came too, but was killed by that mad cousin of his, Bellatrix Lestrange.

She sounds mad.

Hermione couldn't help but snort with amusement at the short but undeniably dry response the book gave. She could imagine it being a Slytherin without any prompting.

She was, but she's dead now too, luckily.

How did she die?

Molly Weasley, Ron's mum, killed her in the final battle.

Were there many deaths?

Too many.

Hermione sighed wearily as her thoughts once again returned back to the subject of war and all the grief and pain it inflicted on both those who had died and those who had survived. A sharp sting of hurt began to well up in her as she recalled the putrid smell of death as smoke drifted over the trees, but she was brusquely called back to reality when new words appeared.

Do you know what happened to the Black family?

Frowning a little at the unexpected question, Hermione wondered if the book's creator had once known the Blacks.

I only know of Narcissa Black, who is actually Narcissa Malfoy. I don't know of any other Black who survived.

Did the Malfoys live?

Just about.

Hermione smiled wryly to herself as she thought over the blond-haired trio who had once been people she had detested. Now, she wasn't quite so sure…

Tell me their names.

The Malfoys?

Yes.

Lucius, Narcissa and Draco (the son).

Lucius. He was a Death Eater, no?

Yes. Was.

Hermione added the last word with slightly harder strokes of the quill, surprising herself with her sudden urge to be adamant on the fact that Lucius being a Death Eater was all in the past. She wanted to set the records straight and spread the word on his behalf that he was actually more of a human than most suspected.

What are the Malfoys doing now?

I don't really know. I only know what Lucius is doing.

Please do tell.

Hermione exhaled deeply as she wondered how much she should disclose to her newfound pen pal of sorts. For a moment, she thought she might keep things simple and brief, but the more she thought about it, the more she found herself wanting to tell all her deepest secrets to her only audience. It felt somehow…safe to confide in a book as it wouldn't be able to tell her secrets to anyone else. That was the magic of keeping a diary, but Hermione had stopped keeping a record of both her life and inner feelings after her second-year of school, having been made deeply paranoid by the incident with Riddle's diary. It seemed foolish to admit it, but Hermione had never quite got over the thought that not only could a diary have been enchanted, but also she didn't like the idea of anyone getting hold of her personal thoughts and feelings.

With this book however, it felt different. The hand that wrote back to her made her feel like she had a real listener for once, and though she had already found Lucius to be a surprisingly good audience for her calmer talk, he was hardly the person she could expect to talk to about what she felt. Taking a steadying breath, Hermione pushed aside all the niggling doubts and sceptical thoughts as she began to write again.

Lucius is staying in the same house as me because of circumstances which are unusual to say the least. The house we're currently living in at the moment is Harry's place which he inherited from his godfather, Sirius. It's the house of one of the Black families and Sirius and Regulus both lived here with their parents.

The Blacks' house?

Yes. I'm suffering from some sort of unknown curse that Bellatrix cast on me after a horrible incident in which she tortured me for information.

Hermione paused to steady herself as her hand began to tremble a little in familiar terror of that harrowing night. Trying to calm her nervously pounding heart, she steeled herself as she resumed writing.

It's been so horrible. I've lost one of my closest friends because of things that happened while I was possessed and I can't stop thinking about it. Harry brought Lucius in because he thought he would help, but so far, we've found nothing. Lucius knows so many things, but even he doesn't seem to know anything about it.

That is because he is a Malfoy.

Hermione was baffled by the terse reply and could almost sense the mockery in the snappish words.

And?

Malfoys are not known for their ability to compromise.

Why would they need to compromise?

Malfoy could know everything he needs to know about your affliction if he compromised.

How do you know all this?

Because I do.

Hermione wanted to scream in frustration at the book's obstinate will to be deliberately vague but kept her temper in check as she pondered all the information she had gathered so far. It seemed the book was quite knowledgeable about pure-blood families such as the Blacks and the Malfoys and Hermione could guess that its creator had been familiar with them in life. Since the book seemed to have been set in a laconic mode, Hermione decided the only way to discover more was to ask questions, which she did promptly.

How much do you know about the Malfoys?

Enough.

And the Blacks?

More than enough.

Do you know anything about Regulus?

Perhaps.

Could you tell me please?

Hermione sat with crossed fingers, hoping that being polite would do the trick. She was dying to know about the secret hero whose life seemed such a tempting mystery to her, and the thought of the book knowing anything about Regulus made her eager and excited.

There is not much to tell.

I'd still like to know.

Regulus had good intentions, despite everything he grew up to and came to stand for. He was a good son, according to most.

I think he was very brave to try and destroy the Horcrux. My friends and I admire him greatly.

Is that so?

Yes. I especially wish to know what he was like.

Perhaps you will discover some of his secrets, since you are residing in the house that once was a home to him. He was privy to many things kept strictly within the Black family. Perhaps even that curse of yours would have been familiar to him…

Hermione jumped up at those words. She didn't know how much of the book's content was trustworthy, but if it thought Regulus had known something that might help cure her curse, she saw no reason not to try. Not even bothering to answer the book, she grabbed her wand and hurried out of her room, running up two flights of stairs until she reached the small landing with two closed doors bearing the nameplates of the Black sons. Without hesitation, she quickly opened the door to Regulus' old room and ran in, only to stop and look around frantically for something that might be hiding clues.

In one corner, there was a grand, old cupboard, the dark wood a little cracked and covered in decades worth of dust. Head bursting with theories and thoughts, Hermione swiftly tried the door of the cupboard before finding it locked, and muttered several unlocking spells until she heard the lock click back. Placing her hand on the silver snake-shaped handle, she took a moment to catch her breath and solemnly pull open the cupboard door, preparing herself for whatever mysteries there were to come.

She gave a yelp and a shriek when she was suddenly bombarded by a mountain of objects that came pouring out of the open door in an unexpected avalanche. Hermione tried to shut the door while fighting off robes and scarves that smothered her face, but failed as more things came tumbling out. She felt herself fall to the floor in a heap of old clothes and other unrecognisable junk, limbs flailing to be rid of the musty robes that seemed to cling to her. Spluttering and coughing from the dust-filled air, she surfaced through the thick spread of random items and gasped for air. Pinned down by several heavy shapes she recognised as a coat stand, a small basin that looked like a Pensieve and several old racing brooms, Hermione tried to wriggle out all to no avail. Her fingers found themselves curling around nothing, and looking around, she saw her wand lying uselessly a few feet away from the considerable mound she was buried under and she gritted her teeth in irritation.

"Accio wand!"

The wand twitched on the floor, but failed to actually move, much to Hermione's vexation. Giving up on the option of magic, she heaved and pushed with her arms, slowly moving the heavy pile of old robes off of her with great labour. She was just about to free herself completely, when a set of Slytherin green robes slipped out of the wad and waved upright as if someone were wearing it. Watching with wide eyes, Hermione saw the robe bend down so that it was level with her as she sat with her legs trapped. She grew suspicious of the robe's intentions but didn't have time to protect herself when the long green sleeves suddenly coiled around her throat and began to tighten.

Hermione tried to scream, but was horrified to hear her voice having been reduced to a breathless squeak. Gasping and guttering for breath as the robe tightened its hold on her, her fierce determination to live kicked in and she began trying to pull the robe off of her. When she realised that she was at a strength disadvantage, Hermione panicked as she felt air steadily being stolen away from and banged her fists on the floor in wild objection.

For a moment, she thought it was the end, for her vision had started being filled with fuzzy black spots and her head was reeling in pain. Then, she was drawing in a huge lungful of air as the robes were yanked off of her by some spell. She heard footsteps behind her and hurriedly turned her head to see Lucius pointing his wand at the offending garment with a look of severe impatience.

"Finite Incatatum!" Lucius commanded in a powerful voice while the robes sagged and drooped in their place before finally crumpling in a heap on Hermione's lap. Sighing in relief, Hermione looked up at him as he walked towards her, coming to stand a little way to her side as he observed the situation.

"I am in half a mind to simply leave you there," he drawled as his eyes skated over the incredible mountain of whatnots that were scattered around and above Hermione.

"You'd regret it," Hermione countered half-heartedly, blushing in embarrassment at being caught in such a foolish state of affairs.

"I think not," Lucius remarked dryly before he raised his wand again and pointed it towards the mountain of unmentionables. "However, it is currently in my best interests to keep you alive," he added with a feigned sigh as he silently levitated everything off Hermione. Staggering to her feet with little grace, Hermione rubbed her shins ruefully, feeling the tender bruises where the coat stand had fallen over her and massaged her neck.

"Thank you," she said through her hair as she bent down to retrieve her wand.

"Hardly a pleasure," Lucius replied smoothly, although his look of irritation seemed to have disappeared. "Now, may I ask you to elaborate on just what you were doing here?"

"Oh, yes! I'm looking for clues. I've got reasons to believe that Regulus may have known something…" Hermione said quickly and somewhat excitedly again as she remembered her original quest. Without stopping to catch Lucius' raised eyebrows, she crouched down by the large pile of bits and pieces and began combing through them with her hands.

"Surely you do not feel that badly deprived that you have to salvage Christmas presents from someone else's motley collection?" Lucius spoke from above her in a disapproving tone.

"No, no," Hermione muttered in absent-minded denial as she dug through old ties and tattered school books that were very much out-of-date. "It said something about Regulus knowing…"

"It?" Lucius persisted from above her as he stood watching her with a frown.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed vaguely as she pulled out an ancient copy of Petrarch's Guide to Courting Etiquette and flicked through the yellowed pages with interest before setting it aside to read later.

"Regulus must have some clues. He was a Black after all…" Hermione said as she moved the many objects about, every now and then pulling out a book or two to keep for later.

"And this theory comes from…?" Lucius prompted with a bite of impatience in his even voice.

"I can't really tell you," Hermione said musingly as she considered the black and white pictures in an old photo album that seemed to be of Regulus' childhood.

"Miss Granger, I am warning you," Lucius said sharply, causing Hermione to glance up at him. "If you do not give me a commendable explanation, I am going to order that robe to throttle you again."

"No need for threats," Hermione retorted in a somewhat chiding manner. "If you'd be patient –"

"I have been unnaturally patient with you, Miss Granger. Know that my son would have not received a tenth of the leniency I am obliged to give you," Lucius told her in a voice of false charm, smiling icily while Hermione realised he wasn't joking.

Swallowing hard, she stared into his pale grey eyes a moment longer as she deliberated on whether she should tell him anything or not. Looking away to glance around Regulus' room, she wondered if she could whole-heartedly break the secret that surrounded the mysterious enchanted book, and found that the alien glow in her heart denied the option firmly. Unable to go against whatever that feeling was, Hermione turned back to Lucius with her lips twisted in an expression of doubt.

"I'm sorry, but I can't really tell you right now."

Hermione saw Lucius' nostrils flare a fraction as he breathed out, his eyes narrowing in what looked to be an expression of suspicion. When he gazed at her with searching scrutiny, she merely shrugged and hoped her innocent expression would give him enough conviction to drop the matter. Seeing him reluctant to let it go, Hermione tried to explain things to him.

"I'll tell you once I know for sure, but for now, you'll just have to trust me."

"Easier said than done," Lucius countered in a quiet murmur that sounded as though it were meant to be for himself. Feeling a quiver of annoyance, Hermione shot him a dark look before gesturing to the memorabilia scattered at her feet.

"I promise I'll explain everything properly when I know what's going on," she assured him as she accidently brushed aside one of the brooms. Lucius opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione was surprised to see his eyes widen a fraction and then his tall form bend back in a fluid dip as a silver blur shot past where his left shoulder had been. Leaping to her feet in shock, Hermione hurried over to him as she saw blood spring from the palm of his left hand which had come up instinctively to protect his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" she asked frantically as he straightened up, his face bearing a slight grimace as he observed the deep gash that had been made across his hand.

"Fine," Lucius answered curtly as he sealed the wound closed with his wand. Hermione let out a low breath as she saw him clean up the blood without falter, relieved to see that his fast reflexes had saved him from greater damage.

"What was that?" she asked in a hushed voice as she turned her eyes to catch sight of the culprit that had drawn blood, but all in vain.

"A knife," Lucius murmured in a low tone as he examined the angry red line of his closed wound. Hermione froze as she took his words in, looking around with alarm for any signs of a knife. A gleam of silver behind him on the far desk caught her eye and she swiftly cross over to the dusty table.

"It's just like Bellatrix's," she breathed in hollow terror while solemn footsteps told her Lucius had come up behind.

"It could be the same," Lucius reminded her as she slowly reached out to take hold of the handle, only to have the knife vanish into invisible dust. Gasping at the disappearance, she quickly turned to look at Lucius with silent questioning, uncertain of what to do.

"Let us be rid of all this paraphernalia. I, for one, do not trust anything handled by a Black's hands," Lucius said in a quiet tone as he waved his wand at the heap of junk and sent it straight into the cupboard, smoothly locking the door afterwards. Hermione watched with jittery nerves, shaken by the possible existence of another knife. When Lucius turned back to her, she could do nothing but stare up at him anxiously, wanting some reassurance.

"Come," he said curtly as his good hand landed lightly on Hermione's shoulder to prompt her forwards. "We should not stay here any longer."

Hermione nodded and began walking towards the door, head whirling with shock and fear. She had just passed the threshold out onto the landing, when she heard a slight grunt behind her and turned to see Lucius stagger against the doorframe in pain, looking paler than usual.

"What's wrong?" she asked as she hurried to his side, taking a light hold of his elbow to try and support him.

"It is – it is nothing," Lucius ground out between his clenched teeth as he steadily straightened up once more, and schooling his expression so that it showed only a sliver of his agony, took a step forwards, only to crumple to his knees.

"Lucius!" Hermione called in fright, couching down beside him as he muttered something about 'blood' and 'Blacks'. She grabbed his shoulder to steady him as he seemed to be on the verge of collapsing completely and began to panic when she noticed him fighting to stay conscious. Biting her lower lip in momentary indecision, she resolutely hugged him tighter as she Apparated them to his room.

A tug of her navel and a moment later, they had landed on a heap on a soft surface and Hermione breathed out in relief, glad for the house allowing internal Apparition. Pulling out her arm that was being squashed by Lucius, she realised they had conveniently landed on his bed, and struggled to lift his greater weight to put him in a more comfortable position. She could see his eyelids fluttering as he tried to stay awake and when she accidently brushed against his wounded hand, he let out a low, agonised groan.

"Lucius? Can you hear me?" Hermione asked in a softened by urgent voice as she grabbed hold of his good hand and squeezed.

"Yes," he rasped out before clamping his jaw shut as a wave of agony convulsed over him.

"I – I don't know what to do," she told him in misery, unknowing of what he was suffering from and therefore uncertain on how to aid him.

"G-get me the blue vial in the b-bottom drawer," Lucius said in a hoarse voice, his fingers clenching the silk bed sheets as his body tensed and flexed of its own accord. Hermione wasted no time in wrenching open the bottom drawer to the bedside cabinet and ignored her natural curiosity that arose at the sight of various vials of mysterious potions. Instead, she went straight for the blue vial and quickly uncorked it, sitting on the bed to help Lucius sit up a little as he grabbed her hand holding the potion and guided it to his lips, taking one mouthful before letting his head fall back, signalling that he was done. Hermione silently replaced the stopper in the vial before setting it down to the side, turning back to see Lucius breathing a little easier and looking less pained.

"Give me your hand," he ordered in voice that still held an unusual roughness to it. Hermione obeyed without question, slipping her hand into his waiting one and giving a sharp intake of breath at feeling the unnatural iciness of his skin. Lucius let out a quiet sigh as he relaxed a little more, his chest heaving less and eyes remaining open.

"Blood poisoning," he said quietly in answer to Hermione's questioning gaze. She opened her mouth to ask something more, when Lucius stopped her with a squeeze of her hand.

"Later," he said dismissively as he closed his eyes again to take deep breaths. Hermione watched him in a mixture of shock and curiosity, able to feel the warmth that was slowly flooding back into his hand. Concluding that she was the one helping to give him warmth, she tentatively brought her free hand to slip under the back of his neck, which was also abnormally cold. Lucius opened his eyes at her move, but made no word of protest as he fixed his gaze on her with calmed observance.

"You're so cold," she remarked in a low murmur, running her eyes over the pale skin of his hand as it enveloped her own.

"My blood has been temporarily diluted," Lucius explained in an equally quiet tone, apparently oblivious to the oddness of the situation.

"You keep many potions in that drawer," Hermione continued as she shifted on the bed so she could sit more comfortably, facing Lucius as she continued to hold his hand and cradle his neck.

"A precaution," he answered simply, his smoothed voice calming the nerves twitching anxiously in Hermione. She let the silence fall between them as she calmed her trembling spirit, aware that only moments ago, they had been faced by something terrible, but now, there was a peacefulness and relief that was settling over them.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked as she raised her eyes up to meet his.

"Better," he affirmed in a laconic manner, obviously wishing to conserve his energy for later. She watched him as he closed his eyes as if to sleep, his complexion looking less peaked.

"Lucius?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you been poisoned before?" Hermione asked in a whisper, not wanting to disrupt the quietude of the room.

"Several times."

"By who?"

"Acquaintances."

"As in, Death Eaters?" Hermione questioned in rising disbelief while Lucius remained with his eyes closed, unmoved by the idea of his former colleagues and their volatile loyalties.

"Indeed."

"But weren't you…friends with them?"

"I keep my enemies closer, Miss Granger," he drawled sleepily. "Not a very wise choice, I assure you."

"Am I an enemy?" she asked quietly, not even knowing why she had bothered to ask such a thing. She swallowed with a little difficulty as she saw grey eyes crack open momentarily to observe her before they disappeared behind closed lids again.

"You are the devil himself, Miss Granger."

Hermione couldn't help but smile at his dryly spoken jest and felt a wave of satisfaction wash over her when she saw the corners of his lips turn upwards in a small smile.

"I wonder what that makes you," she mused aloud as she continued to smile, looking down at his haughty face with a strange fondness.

"An innocent bystander," Lucius murmured as sleep seemed to claim him. "Now, let me rest."

"Get well soon," Hermione told him as she watched him fall into slumber, filled with a new concern for him. It seemed bizarre for her to witness his vulnerable state of being, but what was even stranger was that Lucius didn't seem bothered in the least by her witnessing it. She began to think of everything that had happened that morning and remembered the book which she had yet to tell Lucius about. Gently pulling her hand out of his, she reached for her wand she had tucked back up her sleeve and silently Summoned the enchanted diary to her.

She heard the door of her room open and close, and then the door to Lucius' room opened as a book flew through the air towards her, coming to land next to her on the bed in a well-mannered way. Setting her wand to the side, Hermione briefly flicked through the first few pages with one hand, relieved yet surprised to see their earlier conversation still remaining on the pages. It was only when she reached the last page of writing that she saw what looked like a dark substance smeared across the bottom half of the page. For a moment, she thought it to be ink, but when she bent down a little closer to the book, she noticed with rising alarm that it looked to be blood.

Hermione closed the book quickly to shut out her horror and was in half a mind to wake Lucius, but managed to gather the threads of her commonsense to calm herself a little. Glancing at the book, she firmly decided she would tell Lucius of it when he awoke as she no longer wanted to keep the burden of its secret to herself. With that thought in mind, she turned back to look at the sleeping wizard and was overwhelmed by the contagious weariness that seemed to pull at her resolve to remain awake. Sighing in defeat, she brought her legs up on the bed and leaned forwards to rest her head on the empty space by Lucius' shoulder and let her heavy eyelids close.

A shiver passed through her when she felt a hand sleepily slide through her hair, but she didn't bother to investigate, too tired for even her curiosity. Instead, she instinctively drew a little closer so that her nose was brushing against a soft, robe-covered arm, and allowed her left hand to remain in its place under the warmed back of his neck. Her right hand rested on the cover of the diary, unaware of the warmth that seemed to rise from the book.

She missed the sight of the book glowing blue around the edges of the closed pages as Lucius unconsciously cradled her head with his good hand.

 

39\. A Sense of Guilt

 

Lucius opened his eyes slowly, lids feeling heavy with sleep's hold. Blinking rapidly at the blinding sunlight that was streaming into the room, he stretched slowly, his muscles aching in reverberation of the magic that had hit him. The wound slashed across his left palm still stung a little, but it was nothing he couldn't bear. His right hand was buried in a warm mass of curls that felt surprisingly long and wild to be the fur of his wolfhound, and when he opened his eyes properly to look closer, he saw that he was definitely not back at the Manor, and the thing lying beside him on the bed was certainly not his dog.

Hermione Granger lay curled up in a loose ball, sleeping peacefully, oblivious to all else in the world. With ice running in his veins, Lucius carefully extracted his traitorous hand that had obviously been caressing her head and tried not to wake the girl up. He could barely face his own humility, let alone have Granger witness his moment of relapse. A part of him was raging already at the fact that some little Muggleborn was curled up in the same room, no, on the same bed as him. It was disgraceful, degrading, scandalous, not to mention utterly insane, but Lucius couldn't quite stop the amazement that came as well at seeing her sleeping so contentedly.

Apparently, Granger had had no qualms in laying her head down to rest beside him. He knew no one would ever hear of the matter, but he could still not repress the instinctive guilt and horror he felt at finding himself sharing a bed with someone firstly, who wasn't his wife; secondly, young enough to be his daughter; thirdly, a Muggleborn. The third reason wasn't so much of a bother now that he had better things to think about than blood statuses, but perhaps it was the second reason that repelled Lucius the most. It was palpable that neither of them had meant anything except to catch a spot of rest, but having been blessed with a terribly acute sense of perception, Lucius could fully appreciate the inevitable insinuations that came with sharing a bed with someone.

Gathering his recovered strength, he sat up before rising from the other side of the bed, keeping a wary eye on Granger to ensure she was still slumbering. The dull ache of his limbs reminded him that he had some research to do on the appearance of the mysterious knife and why it had poisoned him, but his thoughts were distracted when he saw Granger mutter something incoherently as she shifted in her sleep, her hands coming to take hold of his pillow and hugging it to her. Lucius held his breath as he waited to see if she would wake, feeling all the more relieved that he had got up and removed the chance of her latching onto him like that. He rarely ever felt out of his depth with anything, but he felt himself to be on uncertain ground at that moment, unsure on how he should react.

It would probably be best to simply not be present when the girl awoke and never mention the incident again, but the idea of that decision placated only a part of Lucius. He felt ridiculously beset upon by his questionable morals, and though it shouldn't have been a problem for him to shrug off the fact that he had accidentally shared a bed with Granger as he had done much worse things in life, somehow, it felt worse than all the worst things.

He paused at the foot of the bed to look back at the object of his puzzling, much bemused by why he was feeling so…Gryffindor about the situation. Lucius was aware that he hadn't much honour to speak of that the world recognised, but he had enough integrity to know that impeaching someone else's innocence was generally not seen as favourable. Quietly walking over to the side of the bed which Granger occupied, he came to stand over her, contemplating her as she slept like a child.

Like a child… That was all she was.

The thought of any wrong intimation left a bad taste in his mouth while his pride rankled at the very idea of someone taking advantage of the girl's purity. If she were one of his own, he would have destroyed anything that threatened her. He supposed that was the feeling that one experienced when one had become a mildly successful father, but it didn't explain why his protective instincts stretched out to cover some girl he didn't even know very well. Said girl was actually a woman now by rights, but she might as well be a girl as most young women remained mere girls in Lucius' eyes. The term 'woman' seemed to be only applicable to someone who was mature, strong, and independent. Someone probably like McGonagall. Lucius did realise that Granger had potential of becoming a woman, but all he could see right now, was the naivety of her youth and the vulnerability of her goodness. It really made him wonder why anyone would want to be good.

Lucius mentally chided himself when he realised he was spending far too much time watching his ward sleep, and felt both irritated and disturbed at his line of thought. Losing control of anything in his life was something Lucius could not stand. Losing control of his thoughts was almost as bad as life in general, but at least he had the option of stamping out any ill notions before trouble started. By the time his thoughts had warped into odd contemplations on what he would if he were Granger's father and there were idiots like Weasley running around, Lucius felt quite ill and deranged.

Swearing to himself in a quiet hiss, he made to leave the room, dearly in need of a good drink, when he felt his robes being caught on something. Turning back with the automatic intent of freeing them, he couldn't help but raise his brows as he saw a hand unconsciously clutching the hem of his outer garment. He wanted to sneer at the gesture very much just to reinforce the disdain of sentimentality in him, but found it incredibly hard to mean it completely. When he reached down to lightly pry Granger's fingers off of his robe, he found them holding tighter than he had thought possible for someone sleeping. Exhaling deeply with some impatience, Lucius tried again, taking hold of her fingers a little tighter with his as he pulled them off of his robes, all the while keeping a chary eye on the sleeping figure. He breathed out in relief when she let go, but almost made a noise of exasperation when her hand latched onto the fingers of his right hand instead.

"Now, is not the time," he murmured in annoyance to the room as he attempted to pull his hand out of her grip. He might have allowed her the luxury of clinging on to him had she been younger than five and were she Draco, but Lucius had run out of parental patience a long time ago. He supposed he was meant to be touched by her unconscious gestures, but his darkened mood barely allowed him to maintain his composure, let alone value the rather sweet manner in which Granger slept. Had he been cursed with sentimentality, Lucius guessed he might have thought it quite delightful to see innocence in its purest form. As it was, he was merely glad that Granger was unable to talk, see, listen or even think. There was only so much one such as he could take of boorish decency.

After several seconds that felt inanely long, Lucius managed to free himself of the Granger girl's clutches and swept out of the room before she could latch onto anything else on his person.

 

Hermione woke slowly, feeling a little chilled by the fall of the sun. She had slept most wonderfully, not having been disturbed by a single dream. Blinking in the bluish hue of the shadows surrounding her, she guessed that the day had come and gone, and she hadn't noticed one bit. The thought of wasting precious hours on sleep would have been infuriating for her, had she not acknowledged the fact that she barely got any decent rest at night, when she would always be tormented something in her eerie dreams.

Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she reoriented herself as she faced a wall whilst on a bed that didn't feel like hers. Shifting a little in the dip her body had made in the mattress, she glanced around the unfamiliar chamber, only to remember that she was in Lucius' room. With a quiet gasp of surprise at waking up on his bed, Hermione quickly sat up in nervous anticipation, relaxing a touch when she realised that Lucius was certainly absent from the room. Sagging against the cold wood of the headboard, she looked around the room, wondering how she could have fallen asleep there of all places. Rubbing her eyes to wake herself up more, Hermione recalled the wild events of that morning, when Lucius had been poisoned by some mysterious knife and she had been talking to the enchanted diary…

The diary!

Hermione leapt off the bed quickly and looked around frenetically, shocked and frightened to find the book gone. She was sure she had Summoned it to her so that she could show it to Lucius when he woke, but it didn't seem to be there at all…

Maybe Lucius saw it and took it with him, she thought with a calming nod, flattening her hair which had become unruly again from sleep and smoothing out the creases in her robes. Her heart was pounding madly in its cage, but Hermione fought to exercise some control over her wild emotions, managing to calm herself a fraction with the idea that Lucius had probably already discovered the diary and was examining it. Nodding to herself as she repeated that notion in self-assurance, Hermione quickly flew down the stairs and entered the drawing room, squinting momentarily as her eyes took time to adjust to the golden glow of the bright candelabras lighting up the room.

"Good evening, Miss Granger. Nice of you to join the living world."

Hermione had to blink several more times before she could see without strain, and her eyes immediately landed on the formidable figure of Lucius as he stood in the centre of the room, his wand arm raised as though he had been about to cast a spell before she had interrupted.

"Have you got it?" Hermione cut to the short, walking over to him quickly while frowning at seeing no signs of the mysterious book.

"I beg your pardon?" Lucius asked with one fine, blond brow raised in question.

"The diary. Surely you saw it when you woke up? I had it in my hand…" Hermione trailed off as she grew flushed, not really wanting to remind either him or her that she had foolishly fallen asleep next to him on his bed. The very thought of it was highly embarrassing, not to mention, had he put his hand in her hair?

"I have no idea what you are speaking of," Lucius told her in his haughty drawl as he lowered his wand to face her properly. "Even if I had seen you clutching your diary, I am not crude enough to invade others' privacy like that. Besides, I really would not want to read about what you think of that vile Weasley boy…"

"Oh, be serious!" Hermione snapped impatiently, her mood taking a turn for the worse as several things appeared to be ruining her life. Yes, Ron was being rather vile, but she had better things to do than write sappy thoughts on him in a diary.

"I am being very serious," Lucius reassured her arrogantly while Hermione ignored him and hurried over to the bookcase and then the large desk, hands scrabbling to find the wanted book.

"Is something amiss?"

Hermione gave a small yelp of surprise as his voice sounded closer to her than expected, and when she whirled around to face him, she backed away a few steps at seeing him looming so close.

"Yes, yes, there is," she muttered worriedly as she anxiously smoothed her hair back and retied it in a bun. "There was something I needed to show you."

"And this something was…?" he prompted as he watched her grow flustered.

"A diary. An enchanted diary," Hermione told him in a breathless explanation as she wondered where next to search.

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Lucius said flatly in a cold voice.

"What?" she asked in surprised as she turned back to see Lucius gazing at her with narrowed eyes, a trace of his old menace lighting his pale features. It took Hermione a moment to realise what he meant, and by the time she did, she was blushing all over again.

"No, I'm being serious. I'm sorry if it sounded like – like that," she apologised hastily, knowing Lucius' mistake of handing out Riddle's diary was still a sore point. "I'm not joking though. There was an enchanted diary here earlier this morning which I was going to show to you. It was talking back and everything…"

"Why did you not show it to me earlier?" Lucius demanded sharply, while Hermione looked up at him a little helplessly, not knowing how to explain.

"I – I… Well, it's just… I mean, I should have brought it to you before I wrote in it, but I didn't think it was that dangerous and I did all the known Detection charms and there didn't seem to be anything wrong…"

Hermione realised she was babbling from nervousness, feeling like a schoolgirl who was trying to come up with a viable excuse on why her homework wasn't in. Except this time, it was worse. She had not just lost homework, and Lucius was no kindly professor. He wasn't even an understanding human being. From the dark look that was brewing on his brow, Hermione didn't think it was very likely that he would suddenly become understanding anytime soon.

"You little fool!" Lucius hissed quietly as he tore his icy eyes away to glance around the room. Hermione felt torn between her indignant anger against his condescending rage and her immense guilt which felt a little like when Professor McGonagall had told her she was disappointed in her for something. It seemed silly and unbelievable how guilty she felt, but what was perhaps even more surprising was just how much Hermione wanted Lucius to be pleased with her for once.

"I thought it was nothing and didn't want to waste your time," Hermione reasoned with him in a voice that sounded a little pathetic, much to her annoyance.

"Waste my time?" Lucius snarled at her as he whipped around to face her again, making Hermione instinctively cower a little in rising fear. "My time here is entirely wasted if you do not tell me everything that you know! How else do you suppose I find a cure?"

"You need to compromise," Hermione said in a small voice, unable to raise her eyes to meet his for once.

"What?" he barked at her in a continued moment of lapsed composure.

"The book said you would know everything you need to know if you compromised," Hermione pressed on in a quiet murmur, hesitant in case he suddenly decided to explode in rage again.

"Compromise?" Lucius repeated in what sounded to be a slightly cooler tone, frowning a little in perplexity. Hermione watched anxiously, surprised to see his expression replaced by one of dawning as his eyes widened a little in surprise.

"Merlin! Why did I not think of it before?" he muttered to himself as he turned to the bookcase and Summoned a hefty tome that looked several centuries old. Hermione snuck to his side to see what was going on as Lucius placed the book down on the table and began leafing through the distinctly old pages. She could see his eyes busily flickering up and down and up and down, skating over the contents of the pages before flipping past. After several long moments of waiting in nerve-jangling suspense, Hermione breathed out when Lucius stopped on a page halfway in and made a face of triumph.

"At last…" he murmured with a slight smile as he began to read in earnest, his lips moving now and then to form what seemed to be complicated words. Hermione peered at the book from a short distance away, not wanting to cause distraction by pushing up too close. From what she could see, the text was written in thick black ink and the writing style made her guess it had been written at least in the 17th century, if not, earlier.

She was a little startled by the sound of Lucius' voice as he suddenly began to read out loud, but listened intently to what he said, trying to ignore the thought that he had quite a pleasant voice when he tried.

"It is therefore the will and wish of both the Black family and the Malfoy family to create the status quo of Compromitus which will allow the sharing of secrets of the Guardians."

"The Guardians?" Hermione asked with a frown, daring to draw nearer to read the text herself.

"That would be the pure-blood ancestors," Lucius explained to her briskly, eyes fixed on the page.

"So you can find out the secrets of the Blacks?" Hermione pressed on, glad at the discovery, but unsure on just what exactly it meant.

"Indeed," Lucius murmured in assent, his small smile still lingering on his lips. The look of victory faded however, when he looked up and fixed Hermione with a serious look.

"We would need a Black to carry out the transaction," he said gravely.

"Your wife?" Hermione suggested without skipping a heartbeat.

"She is no longer a Black by name," Lucius said with a shake of his head. "The contract dictates that someone who is strictly a Black by both birth and name must be the one to trade secrets."

"I would suggest Andromeda, but obviously, she's not Black anymore, and I don't think she even associates herself with her old family," Hermione mused aloud. "Sometimes, I even forget that she's Bellatrix's sister…"

"And that is the way it is meant to be," Lucius confirmed sharply. "However, disowned members of the Black family are not what we need to talk about, nor are they useful," he continued before Hermione could say anything. "We need a Black who is preferably alive and in a sane state of mind."

"Phineus Nigellus?" Hermione offered with a shrug.

"I hardly think he is the best candidate for approaching as he does not strike me as a man known for his desire to aid Muggleborns," Lucius said dismissively.

"Neither were you," Hermione pointed out while he had no choice but to give a small incline of his head in a silent touché.

"However, I am still young compared to the likes of Phineus, and have had a fairly early start to understanding Muggles than most of my line," Lucius reasoned as he gazed into the fire at the other side of the room. "Phineus has been a portrait for several long decades and judging by the conversation he and I had this afternoon, I have reason to believe he will not be stepping down on his views anytime soon."

"Then who else is there?" Hermione asked a little dejectedly, depressed by the bleak future of their mission.

"Tell me about this diary," Lucius said suddenly, continuing to stare off towards the far wall.

"Well, it didn't tell me much about itself," Hermione started, twisting her fingers nervously behind her back as she recalled her earlier conversations with the book. "It said it knew of Voldemort, so I guessed it could be up to fifty years old or more. It said it was a book of memories, but wasn't a Horcrux and it wouldn't tell me who'd created it."

"What did you write to it?" Lucius asked in a calmed manner, soothing away Hermione's previous anxiety and letting her relax.

"I told it about Harry, the war, the Horcruxes…"

"And it still did not reveal the name of its creator?"

"No."

"How rude," Lucius remarked in a musing tone.

"Hmm… But it did say it knew the Malfoys and Blacks fairly well. It knew of your time as a Death Eater."

"Ah."

Hermione smiled to herself as she remembered the book given the exact same response when she had mentioned Harry had defeated Voldemort. Focusing her gaze on Lucius, she saw him thinking hard as his brow was pulled down in a small frown.

"In fact, it seemed to know you quite well," Hermione added as an afterthought struck her. "It told me you needed to compromise and it obviously knew what it was talking about."

"This book… It knows a suspicious amount of information," Lucius said in a pondering drawl as he slowly paced a wide circle in the centre of the room. "How did it fall into your hands?" he asked, pausing in his contemplative walk to look at Hermione expectantly.

"I don't know. I just found it with all my other presents and I thought one of my friends must have given it to me…" she tailed off as she tried to think which friend seemed most likely.

"One of your friends? What amusement would they see in giving you an enchanted diary?" Lucius deliberated out loud. "I hardly think it would be the Weasley girl. It would be far too blunt and inconsiderate even for her."

"Ginny's never been blunt or inconsiderate. Honest, maybe, but you can't fault her for that," Hermione reasoned in slight annoyance which only grew when Lucius waved away her words dismissively.

"That is beside the point. Even if she were the most subtle and considerate person in the world, it would not matter in regards to this situation," Lucius countered with a hint of condescension, causing a sharp retort to come to Hermione's mind, though she made sure to bite her tongue. It wouldn't do to start arguing now when they needed to co-operate.

"It would be most logical if we solved this in a reasonable order," Lucius carried on in his more patronising tone as he wondered to himself. "We can work out who gave you the book later on. For now, we need to look at the possibility of using the Compromitus to give us some leads."

"We'll have to find the book," Hermione said firmly, wanting to put in at least a few words into the plan.

"That would seem a prudent thing to do," Lucius agreed as he raised his left hand to hold it to the light, studying the red line that marked his palm.

"I guess we've got the problem of that knife too," Hermione murmured as she came to stand by him and look up at his hand.

"Guessing is out of the question," Lucius drawled like the mastermind that he was as he lowered his hand and turned his face to look at Hermione. "The knife that scored me is the same as the one that Bellatrix once used so fondly."

"How do you know?"

"It took me a while to find the right manuscripts, but Orion Black was a better man than I thought," Lucius replied as he turned on his heel and strode over to the parchment-littered desk. Hermione hurried after him, looking at both him and the various texts scattered across the wide surface of the mahogany desk.

"What do you mean? Better man?"

"He kept a good record of the Black family's heirlooms and treasures," Lucius explained as his long fingers skittered deftly over the yellow leaves of the parchment until he found the right one and pulled it out. Hermione could see that it was an inventory written in illegibly old-fashioned calligraphy. She could deduct the gist of it however, from the thick-lettered title that ran across the top; Properties of the House of Black.

"All rather pomp and circumstance," Lucius remarked with a slight sneer as he perused down the list. His apparent disdain for the Blacks continued to surprise Hermione, but she could only shrug in defeat for it was impossible for her to understand everything mad pure-bloods did.

"Ah. Here," Lucius said, bringing Hermione's attention to a short line of words halfway down the list that he was tapping lightly with one ring-laden forefinger.

"What does it say?" Hermione asked as she leaned in a little closer to peer at the writing, able to detect an 'e' at the end of the first two words and…was that an 'i'?

"The Knife of Arcturus the First. It can be summoned by any member of the Black family," Lucius read in a clear voice before he surprised Hermione by handing the sheaf of thick parchment to her. "You may study the horribly indecipherable lettering of the Black patriarch yourself."

"Some would think you hate the Blacks," Hermione murmured with a shake of her head as she tried to decipher the writing before her.

"When you have come from a line like mine, you cannot afford to be usurped by others," Lucius replied nonchalantly before turning his attention to the tapestry lining the walls.

"It's always like that with you Slytherins," Hermione remarked censoriously as she stopped in her decoding to look up at him. "You play free-for-all until you decide there's a greater cause to band against."

"'Tis called politics, my dear," Lucius said breezily before freezing, glaringly aware of how he had addressed Hermione. Hermione, too, stalled in her movements to allow her brain to process what he had just said and found her stomach clenching most uncomfortably. Lucius was the first to recover as he cleared his throat and valiantly assumed his indifferent manner as he glanced at the list still in Hermione's hands.

"You should read the rest of that. It may mention some book or other," he directed her with a nod towards the parchment, making Hermione jerk a little as she was wrenched back from her thoughts.

"Can't you read it? You're obviously better at it," she said as she offered the long piece of the parchment to Lucius, hoping that some flattery might yield him suddenly kind-hearted. She was thoroughly disappointed by the disapproving look he gave her, but refused to give up yet.

"Please?" she implored him lightly, not wanting to grovel, but knowing that she would much prefer sacrificing her pride to save herself from labouring over someone's bad handwriting.

"Give it to me," he drawled with an impatient sigh while Hermione did her best to look suitably grateful as she passed him the list.

"Thank you."

"It is hardly fair, after all, to expect an uneducated girl like you to be able to read the well-crafted words of we traditionalists," he replied in his most patronising manner, lips twisting up in a barely visible smirk. Hermione wasn't sure if she was more annoyed or amused by his deliberate baiting, but let it go anyways.

"I'll see if I can find the book, shall I?" she suggested as Lucius sat down at the desk with the record pulled up before him.

"That would be rather useful," he acknowledged, not bothering to look at her as he immersed himself in his reading. Hermione left him to it, taking her time going back up to her room, pondering over every bit of new information that she had found out in the last twenty-four hours. She thought it logical to start with the obvious and had decided her room would be the first place to look for the diary. Opening the door, she lit the candles in the room with her wand and turned to scan the room.

There it was.

Sitting innocently where Hermione had once placed it earlier in the morning, the diary looked suspiciously like any other diary. Muttering her annoyance under her breath, Hermione hurriedly walked over to her desk and flipped open the book, this time treating it with a callousness she would have usually thought to be vulgar when handling books.

The pages had blanked themselves once again and the only writing she could see was one single line several pages in.

Toujours Pur

Seeing the Black family motto in the book baffled Hermione for a moment, but then she realised that it was all appearing too connected to be a matter of coincidence. Without thinking, she plonked herself down in the waiting chair and snatched up her quill, dipping it into ink before quickly beginning to scrawl a message below the two words.

Who are you?

She had to wait only a few seconds before her words were replaced by the scratchy, slanted hand she had become familiar with.

A keeper of secrets.

A Black?

Once.

Which one?

It is irrelevant. My creator has been dead for a long time.

Are you speaking as a book?

I am not speaking at all.

Ha ha.

I am glad it amuses you.

Sarcasm.

You surprise me, Gryffindor.

So, you're prejudiced as well?

For a book, yes.

You sound like a person.

That would be my creator.

Who gave you to me?

I would not know. I am a book.

So you keep saying. 

And as a book, I am only able to relay knowledge to you that has been written into me.

Right. Did you summon Arcturus' knife and give Lucius blood poisoning?

Only my creator can do that.

And did he?

My creator is dead.

Is that a no?

Yes.

What do you know of 'Compromitus'?

I am knowledgeable.

Can you tell me about it?

No.

Why not?

It is the right of a Black or a Malfoy. Never a third party.

But Lucius has already told me a bit about it.

Then ask him.

I'm asking you.

I am a diary. I am meant to be written in, not questioned.

Fine.

Hermione huffed a little in irritation, having hoped to find some answers in the mysterious book, but all to no avail. It was being deliberately evasive, and Hermione could have sworn it was somehow connected to the knife appearing unexpectedly in Regulus' room and targeting Lucius as the victim. It seemed stupid of her to continue writing in the book as well, as she had promised to show it to Lucius, but she could do that in plenty of good time. First, she wanted to test the book's power as a diary.

Can I trust you?

Ask yourself, Hermione.

Fine. You are about to be subjected to being a good sob diary.

I am prepared.

I was bullied when I was younger, before coming to Hogwarts. My parents are Muggle, so I didn't know I was a witch until I got my Hogwarts letter at eleven. It was so…unreal.

You are a Muggleborn?

Yes.

How interesting.

I suppose you're horrified because you're Slytherin?

I never said I was anything. After all, books do not attend Hogwarts.

Fine. Maybe your creator was.

Maybe.

Like I said, my entrance into the magical world took me away from the bullying problems, and even started giving me confidence. I was so happy for so long…

Was?

There was a war. That didn't shape my school years too nicely.

I understand.

Do you?

For a book, yes. My creator knew of wars.

I spent my seventh year hunting Voldemort's Horcruxes instead of being at school. It was so difficult sometimes. In the beginning, it felt like us three (Harry, Ron, me) had a purpose, then there was a time when… Ron dropped out for a while which was horrible for me…

What is he to you?

A friend. More than, maybe.

Maybe?

I don't know. I got really close with him by the time the war ended. Then I realised I'd been cursed by Bellatrix with some unknown curse and things happened… Lucius came into the equation. I tried to kill Ron while being possessed. Things haven't been so good since that.

I see. 

It's not helped by Lucius being here either. We used to go to school with his son, Draco, when he was a nasty git and everyone thinks Lucius is still horrible too.

Is he?

Not really. No, he isn't. He's almost nice, considering he used to despise people like me.

A Muggleborn?

Yes, something like that. He said it wasn't a personal thing. Just an ingrained belief. He's so different from what I thought he would be…

Tell me about him.

I don't really know much about him. He's just a lot more…human than I thought he would be. He's almost normal. He confuses me though.

In what way?

It's hard to say. 

Try.

Well, I've never been close to any older wizard before, so it feels a bit strange getting to know him of all people. Sometimes, he'll be patronising and arrogant like his old self, but then, he'll be serious and sensitive. That mostly happens at night. He changes all the time, and it's hard to tell what mood he is in. The weird thing is, it feels like I've known him for ages. He seems to understand me a lot better than some of my friends and he's got so much intellect, it's almost frightening. He knows so much.

Frightening, indeed.

Hermione wanted to be annoyed by the book's cheeky sarcasm, but she ended up smiling instead, wanting to do nothing more than laugh at how silly she was being, how silly her life was, how silly everything was. Somehow, it felt easier to laugh at life when one was looking from a book's point of view. Letting out a weary sigh, she set down her quill and closed the book, picking it up to take down to Lucius. She hoped it wouldn't do anything strange, as apparently, it had managed to get from Lucius' room back to hers without any human intervention. Pondering the matter with an unintentional scowl, she came back down to the drawing room and walked over to where Lucius was still sitting at the desk.

"You should refrain from frowning so much, Miss Granger," Lucius chided lightly as he turned his head to look at her. "It will make you look old."

"I have more important things to worry about than how I look," Hermione told him in a slight huff, feeling irritated by his mentioning of looks when Hermione knew she had none to speak of, thank you very much. She placed the book down in front of him and waited, glancing sideways at him when he didn't immediately react.

"What?" she asked in a mild panic as she realised Lucius was studying her intently with a thoughtful expression.

"It is nothing," Lucius drawled dismissively as he turned his attention to the book, his denial grating Hermione's nerves a little and making her wonder whether he was knowingly baiting her or not. Resisting the temptation to say something, she followed his example and stared at the book, watching him handle it carefully with his slim fingers.

"Interesting," Lucius murmured as he turned the diary over in his hands and examined the covers.

"What is?" Hermione asked in genuine curiosity, leaning in a bit closer to see if there was something Lucius was seeing that she had missed.

"It would seem that one Black went through a lot of trouble to procure this," he said musingly as he slowly opened the book and gently rubbed the parchment between his fingers like a true book connoisseur.

"Why?" Hermione prompted as she reached out with one hand to lightly feel the patterned indentations of the embellished cover.

"This is a book I saw many years ago," Lucius began in a quietened tone, "on the Dark Lord's shelves."

"Regulus!" Hermione yelped in sudden revelation, causing Lucius to tense reflexively in surprise. He threw her an irritated look as he pulled his hand back from where it had instinctively gone for his wand, his annoyance watering down Hermione's stroke of illumination.

"Sorry," she apologised quickly for upsetting his calm before quickly leaning in to open the book.

"What on earth –" Lucius began as he leaned back in his chair, clearly ruffled at having Hermione taking over his personal space, but she cut him off quickly as she flipped to the page where the last words of the book still lingered.

"Look," she instructed him as she picked up a nearby quill and started writing beneath the solitary line.

Your creator was Regulus Black.

Hermione held her breath as her heart thumped in pounding excitement, her nerves quivering as adrenalin rushed through her. Any moment now, the book would have to admit it, and they would have solved another piece of the puzzle…

"You know how to write. Congratulations, Miss Granger," Lucius said dryly in a tone rather reminiscent of Professor Snape while Hermione grew flustered at seeing the book unresponsive.

"No, any moment now," she assured him anxiously, unconsciously gripping the quill in her hand so tightly that it was beginning to bend.

"Watch that quill!" Lucius barked at her, making her jump and drop the writing implement as though it had burnt her. "It is a gift from Severus, so unless you are intending to replace it…" he purposely tailed off as he quickly rescued the handsome eagle feather quill and placed it out of Hermione's reach.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to," Hermione murmured abashed, barely taking her eyes off the book to shoot him an apologetic look. From the way Snape's first name had slipped off Lucius' tongue, Hermione could imagine the two men must have still been friends, despite all that had happened to them. She could tell Lucius was disgruntled, although he hid it a lot better than most would, but she was starting to distinguish his veiled expressions better.

"This book… Is it supposed to write back to you?" Lucius enquired coolly as he swerved past the subject of both the late Professor Snape and the almost-damaged quill.

"Well, that's what it was doing until I brought it down here," Hermione said hesitantly, feeling both annoyed and embarrassed that it wasn't writing back anymore. She hoped Lucius didn't think she had gone mad, although it would be hard to prove otherwise if the book didn't do something soon…

Finally, the words rippled into the page, fading from sight in that way Hermione had been waiting for. She let her shoulders slump in relief as she confidently awaited the slanted hand to appear, but seconds passed, and the book did nothing but remain blank. She glanced at Lucius apologetically, noting the coldness of his indifferent face as he gazed unblinkingly at the diary.

"It should write something –"

"It knows I am here," Lucius interrupted curtly, making Hermione pause to think over the properties of enchanted diaries in general. Lucius' statement of the book possessing a sense of perception seemed to make sense, as she could recall Riddle's diary having been able to tell how to manipulate whoever used it.

"Can enchanted books tell?" she asked to be sure, partly doubtful whether the diary could truly distinguish different people or not.

"That depends on the enchantments placed upon them," Lucius reasoned coolly as he picked up the prized quill. "However, we shall find out what this book thinks."

And with that, he tilted his head down to guide his hand with his eyes, drawing out the letters in an incredibly neat, slanted calligraphy that evoked a sting of envy and marvel to well up in Hermione.

Mors Mortis Vici

"What does that mean?" Hermione asked as she leaned over him slightly to look at the curious quote.

"It will tell us if this book was indeed made by Regulus Black," Lucius explained equivocally, his eyes never leaving the book. There was a tense silence as they waited for a response, both rooted to the spot as they stared at the glaring contrast of the hard black ink against the soft parchment. For a moment, Hermione thought that the book might have lost its enchantment, but her wonder was renewed when the page finally absorbed Lucius' ornate writing and replaced it with its reply.

Toujours Vaincre la Mort

"Ah," Lucius said in triumphant realisation. "It seems we have our advocate of the Black household."

"Is it Regulus?" Hermione enquired in a voice quivering with her excitement.

"I would presume so," Lucius replied calmly, although Hermione noticed that he seemed to be smiling in a curiously genuine expression.

"What were those phrases you wrote? They looked like French and Latin," Hermione remarked, unable to quell the academic stream in her, even in a moment of rising exhilaration.

"A private joke," Lucius admitted as his lips continued to smile. "They come from the days when the Dark Lord wished to create a motto for the blood cause. Obviously, that particular assignment failed."

"And it means…what? Pure-bloods united? Purity forever?" Hermione said with a hint of sarcasm as her thoughts soured as they turned to Voldemort and his lethal followers.

"They are based on the phrase 'To Conquer Death'," Lucius corrected somewhat coldly, seemingly not appreciating Hermione's dark mirth.

"Oh," she exclaimed lightly before sighing as she realised it all came back to Voldemort's greatest obsession. To overcome death with immortality.

"It seems the book is a portal through which our dead ally can communicate with the living," Lucius commented when the page had blanked itself. "We will have to think of a way to speak with him in a more convenient method."

"Don't you think it might be a Horcrux or something?" Hermione asked a little nervously as Lucius' eyes continued to glint with the smile that had now left his lips.

"It seems unlikely," he said breezily, his unusually nonchalant tone not helping to banish the doubts in Hermione at all. On the contrary, Hermione felt suddenly wary of the book, as it didn't seem likely that Lucius would be happy unless it was an object connected to his precious Dark Arts. When he turned his head to look up at her, she noticed a strangely jubilant gleam in his pale grey eyes that frightened her more than the usual expressionless appearance of his orbs.

"I shall have a look at this now," he told her in his smooth voice that contradicted the excitement in his eyes. "I suggest you have something to eat and go to bed, seeing as it is getting late already."

"What about you?" Hermione asked uneasily, feeling nervous at Lucius' keenness to work on the book.

"I have dined already," he replied dismissively without bothering to look up at her. Hermione gave a shrug of defeat as she came to the temporary decision that he wouldn't dare to do anything with the Dark Arts while he was under Harry's rules, but she settled on keeping an eye on him nevertheless.

"I'm not that hungry, so I'll ask Kreacher to bring me something up instead," Hermione told him in an effort to test the depth of his singular focus.

"Very well," Lucius replied in an automated response, already too engrossed in examining the book to pay her much attention. Hermione wasn't sure if he was even listening anymore, but decided she would tell him of her evening plans just so that she could point out she had warned him, even if he hadn't heard.

"I'm – um, going to be taking a bath so –"

"I shall not be venturing upstairs anytime soon," Lucius cut in brusquely as he spared her a brief glance, surprising Hermione with his unpredictable skills of concentration. Sometimes, she forgot that people didn't always have a simple-thinking mind. Having been around Harry and Ron and their boyish mindset for so long, she had forgotten that Lucius was a full-grown man, and was obviously very capable of thinking many intricate complexities simultaneously.

"Um…okay," she replied, unable to think of something more intelligent to say. "I'll scream if I need help."

"Hopefully, it will not come to that," Lucius murmured without lifting his eyes off the opened book, although Hermione didn't have to see his face to realise the dry humour that was inhabiting him. Shaking her head in mild disapproval, she left him to start working and went upstairs to the bathroom on the same landing as her room, mollified at the thought of soaking herself in warm, relaxing water.

She drew a bath without having to think about it, humming quietly as she watched the water gushing out of the silver tap shaped in the form of a serpent's mouth. Glancing around, she saw that the general theme of the bathroom was, like the rest of the house, based on Slytherin décor. Snorting in a way she knew would have made Lucius' lip curl in disdain, Hermione found it ironic how Gryffindors were accused of being too obvious when the same could be said of the supposedly-subtle Slytherins. At least we Gryffindors are obvious in full honesty, unlike some.

Chortling to herself in an unusual moment of amusement, she stripped off her clothes and slipped into the hot water with a sigh of bliss.

 

"Of course!" Lucius murmured to himself in subdued exclamation as he raised his wand to tap an empty page in the book. "Plagiarism is a sin, if there ever was one," he remarked to the empty room. He smiled as his unspoken spell began to take effect, lines of words written in a style much reminiscent of Tom Riddle appearing on all the pages. With proud satisfaction, Lucius let himself gloat to an invisible audience as he uncovered the implausibly simple charm placed on the book to hide its original content.

He was just about to delve into what would be the undoubtedly intriguing entries of the diary's owner, when he heard a high-pitched shriek sound from above. Freezing for a split second to instinctively assess the situation, he sprung off the chair at the sound of another short scream and grabbed his wand as he Apparated upstairs.

Appearing a few feet outside the bathroom of the second floor, he reached out to open the door that was already ajar, pushing the wood hard without reserve. He almost gave a cry of shock at the sight exposed to him.

"OH NO! GET OUT!" a flushed-looking Hermione yelled at him hysterically as she struggled to wrap a white towel around herself, her bare legs reddened from spending time in hot water. It seemed the towel wasn't as large as she had expected, for she whimpered as she tried to cover herself up although the fluffy material could only conceal the bare minimum, and hopped around oddly from one foot to the other.

Lucius beat a hasty retreat, slamming the door shut after him before leaning on the wood and exhaling slowly in the safety of the dim hallway. He had no idea what had made the girl panic, but it seemed she was in no immediate mortal danger. Closing his eyes as he calmed his racing pulse, Lucius tried not to think of the image of Granger covered only by a towel that had been branded into his mind.

"Merlin…" he sighed to the corridor that seemed to sympathise with him with its gloom. For the first time in a long while, he let his shoulders slump as he remained leaning against the bathroom door for support, reeling with the shock of a completely unexpected scenario. He had been prepared to battle demons, fight phantoms…even face the ghost of Bellatrix. But he certainly hadn't been prepared to see Granger…almost naked.

An involuntary shudder passed through him as the thought wired his mind, bringing a hiss of anxiety to his lips. It wasn't as though he hadn't seen a woman before, but the very idea of Granger…

It was disturbing. Lucius blamed his newly discovered conscience for it, but he found the thought of seeing Granger in a less-than-fully-clothed state highly disturbing.

Disturbing, but fascinating. Oh no, no, no, no, no… I did not just think that.

Lucius wanted to gouge his own eyes out in despair and repulsion, but he realised that the image would stay in his memory. Perhaps he could perform an Obliviate on himself? Or at least ask Granger to if it was too risky? Gripping his wand tightly in his hand, he stepped away from the door to pace a tight circle in front of it, hoping to walk out his agitation that came with the unfamiliar feeling of utter confusion.

He tried both keeping his eyes open and squeezing them shut, but it was all to no avail. No matter what he did, he continued to see the flushed cheeks of Granger, water droplets clinging to her unruly curls…

"Damn it!" he hissed in annoyance to nobody in particular before jerking upright at the sound of the door being flung open again. He cast a wary glance in that direction before deciding it was safe to look, feeling a tremor of his previous shock at seeing a panic-stricken Hermione still wrapped up in only a towel that ended a little high up her thighs.

He must have been staring, for when he brought his eyes up to her face, he could see that she was blushing furiously, a gesture that appeared strangely endearing despite her reddened face.

"I need help," she stated in a tone that hinted she was actually begging. The sound of her voice shook off whatever madness had seized Lucius, and he regained his composure and a shred of his dignity once more.

"With what, Miss Granger?" he asked politely, working hard to keep his tone calm and indifferent. He had never before had to concentrate so hard on controlling his expressions.

"With that," Hermione said with a slight shudder, pointing to a large, black shape lying in the far corner of the bathroom.

"A spider?" Lucius asked, unable to keep the sheer incredulity out of his voice.

"Yes!" Hermione keened in whimpering imploration, obviously very unhappy with the arachnid that did look unusually large for a domestic breed.

"This is the most ridiculous –"

"Please!" Hermione interrupted him with a look of pure pleading. "Just get rid of it!"

Lucius took a moment to register the intensity of the unreasonable fear burning in her eyes and sighed as he realised that not everyone was able to get on with life like he could. He strode past her impatiently, heading straight for the corner where the hairy-legged, miniature beast was crouching in seemingly frozen apprehension. From a closer angle, Lucius could almost understand why the girl was so frightened as he had never seen a more frightfully ugly thing as the unexpected guest, but he certainly felt no fear for it. He was quick to act, knowing that the spider could probably move faster than he could follow, and swiftly smashed his heel down on it, grimacing as the goo of its blood spurted from under his boot.

"Gods!" Hermione yelped in shock from behind him while Lucius didn't relieve the pressure from his foot, but mercilessly ground the innocent critter into the floor. When he was certain it was quite dead, he stepped back and observed his crushed victim, displeased more by the sticky mess he had created than any qualms against having killed it.

"You will find the enemy vanquished," Lucius announced in deliberate indifference as he turned around to face her, fully expecting to be all the more annoyed at her reaction. However, he found his own emotions becoming volatile and unfamiliar as he saw the mixed look of horror and sorrowful regret written across her face.

"You didn't need to kill it!" she bleated weakly in a way that might have irritated Lucius previous to his character rectification.

"You asked me to get rid of it, and I did," he stated calmly as he gazed directly into her widened, brown eyes.

"But – but… Oh, never mind. You wouldn't understand," she muttered before turning quickly and hurrying out. Lucius watched her dumbly as she disappeared into her room, feeling troubled by how upset she was over the matter. It didn't make sense to him how she could blame him for killing the spider, when she had been the one to tell him to do it. Although, admittedly, she hadn't asked him to actually kill the thing; he had just assumed that it would be prudent to get rid of it once and for all.

Looking around the tiled room in rising frustration, Lucius saw a plain negligee of violet silk draped over a holding bar fused to the wall and with a sigh, went over to take hold of it. Picking up the cool material that seemed to caress and flow through his fingers like water, he wondered if Hermione felt that also when she wore it.

Merlin! I am going mad…

Clenching his jaw as he concentrated on keeping his thoughts on the straight and narrow, Lucius swiftly strode over to the closed door of Granger's room and rapped his knuckles sharply on the wood. He thought he heard a sniff from within, but had no chance to speculate as a muffled 'Come in!' triggered him to enter.

"I thought you might need this," he murmured quietly as he held out the nightie to her, careful to stand outside the room and not intrude in case she was feeling particularly capricious and sulky.

"Thank you," Granger said almost too quietly to hear as she quickly relieved him off the slip of silk and softly closed the door in his face. Lucius breathed out slowly to dispel his rising ire at being treated so insolently, gaining a distraction from Granger's earlier words.

You wouldn't understand.

Lucius couldn't think what exactly she meant by that, as there were quite a few possible implications to be had. Remaining outside her room, he contemplated the intention behind her words, feeling oddly displaced by his own lack of comprehension. It was like a complex problem that he couldn't solve; he felt frustrated by his lack of control in his position as the one who could not understand.

"Fool," he muttered to himself as he suddenly realised he had been worrying over the words of some silly girl. He had crushed grown wizards with his power and intelligence; he hardly needed to think himself inadequate or incapable just because he couldn't understand some foolish chit's mood swing.

Yet despite his usual method of forcing conviction upon himself, Lucius couldn't quite get himself to believe that he was right to ignore Granger's words. His application of the technique had worked in the past, so why wasn't it working now? He almost smiled as he answered his own query; he had changed. He was no longer the man who could live solely on his drive for power, no matter what the rest of the world still thought. It seemed an impossible change, but it had happened, and he felt…lost without his superficial beliefs to guide him. He hated being caught in the unknown, and desperately yearned to know what the girl had been talking about.

Swallowing his pride, he knocked once again on the door and waited until he had heard the quiet words of permission to enter.

Granger was already in bed, the sheets pulled tightly up to her chin as she lay on her side with her face to him, enabling Lucius to see the sadness lingering on her soft features.

"I thought you were going to call the elf for some food?" he said with a raised brow as he closed the door quietly behind him and walked over to stand a short distance away from her.

"I'm not hungry," she murmured before burying half of her face in the bed covers as she closed her eyes.

"Surely you are not going to bed yet? It is only half past eight," Lucius exclaimed lightly in an effort to make conversation, glancing at the clock on the far wall to learn the time.

"I want to sleep," she said, her voice muffled by the bed sheets.

"As you wish," Lucius conceded in mild indifference while disguising his hesitation as careful thinking as he wondered if he should leave or stay.

As if she had read his mind, Hermione's muffled voice sounded again, "You can stay, if you want."

Lucius unhurriedly sat down in the chair still drawn up beside the head of her bed and watched her in the light of a single candle on the bedside table. She had hidden her face in the blankets like a child hiding from something, but it had a surprisingly pretty effect, although Lucius didn't want to acknowledge it. A part of him thought he was going very mad while another part brushed it off as the effects of change. Clearly, his conscience wasn't going to let him trip along through life without suffering the consequential guilt for his immoral actions.

With a sigh of defeat, he fondly recalled a life that had been simple despite its depraved existence. Severus had always understood and shared his desire for the simplicity of supposedly dissolute living, but Severus had apparently been redeemed by that thing called love. Lucius knew the limits of his minimal reformation, and knew that love, whatever that truly was, was one step too far for him, and therefore, he would remain unredeemed for evermore.

The fact of his eternal damnation didn't bother him in the least, but he was more troubled by the thought of never understanding something as common as love. He had called it a fool's sport in the past, and had mocked the weakness of the emotion, but a whisper to know what it was had been growing stronger within him over the past few weeks. Perhaps it was due to spending so much time with Granger who could be seen as the most energetic activist for love besides Dumbledore, but Lucius wasn't so sure anymore whether that was strictly a bad thing.

He focused on the half of the face peeping out of the folds of bedcover and mused to himself as he gazed at her closed eyes and the soft curve of her cheek. He doubted she was fully slumbering as it seemed she had decided to fall asleep after a fit of sullen indignation, but gracefully went along with the charade, finding it easier to study her when he imagined she was unconscious.

Perhaps he would wrangle some explanations out of her tomorrow. He would prefer not to have to make himself obvious by asking questions like some ignorant fool, and found himself hoping that she wouldn't question his pride. Deciding from her steady breathing that Granger had indeed fallen asleep, Lucius quietly rose from the chair and made to leave the room, glancing back to look at her and on a sudden whim, reaching out to lightly brush back a stray lock of hair that had fallen across the part of her face that was visible to him. Frowning at his own weakness to the unexplainable impulse, he left for his own room to spend another sleepless night contemplating his dubious past and the consequences of it.

Guilt could be such a troublesome thing.


	18. XVIII

40\. The Lost Wanderer

Morning arrived too quickly for Hermione. She realised she had woken up once again after slumbering restlessly as her mind had flickered with half-formed shadows and phantom screams. With heavy lids, she blinked slowly, fighting to push the sleep out of her eyes as she glanced dozily around the dimmed room.

Her blurred gaze travelled over the shadowed shapes of the furniture before finding the thin slit of light coming through the gap in the curtains. A few minutes later, her eyes had adjusted and she sat up with a yawn, not wanting to waste any more of another day in bed. Turning to slip her legs from out of the warm bedcovers and hanging them over the side, Hermione froze, eyes wide as she stared at the far wall in icy shock.

Beside the door that was embedded into the wall, there was her old school trunk in which she had brought her necessary belongings over from her flat, and on the big black box, sat a dark-haired stranger.

"Hello."

Hermione simply continued to stare, wild conclusions bursting through her mind like fireworks as she numbly tried to understand what was going on. The unexpected guest looked young; possibly near twenty, and there was something about the way his black hair fell into his eyes and his face bore patrician features that reminded Hermione strongly of Sirius. His soft greeting seemed to echo hauntingly in her ears and when she squinted to look better, she found that the boy, or young man as it were, was slightly transparent in the sliver of creeping daylight that touched him.

"Who – who are you?" Hermione asked in a somewhat hoarse whisper, immediately thinking it silly of her to ask as soon as she had posed the question, for she knew who the boy was supposed to be.

"You know who I am."

The visitor's voice was quiet and a touch melodious, despite the distinct air of melancholy in his manner. Hermione couldn't stop staring at him, tongue-tied in wonder at the supposedly impossible thing she was probably imagining.

"Regulus?" she tried at last in a tentative voice. "Regulus Black?

"Hermione Granger," the boy answered calmly. "It is good to meet you at last."

"But – but… How is it possible? I mean, how – how are you here?"

"By the means of magic," Regulus replied simply, his ghostly form still sitting on the trunk with a graceful yet lordly bearing.

"But how did you get out of the diary?" Hermione questioned a little frantically, her anxiety rising at the thought of a possible Riddle-like, manipulating Horcrux.

"I wished for it."

Hermione's alarm morphed into a prickle of annoyance as she realised that the book's laconic tone did indeed match that of its creator. Clamping her mouth shut and making sure to give him her most unimpressed look, she simply sat on the edge of the bed in silence, hoping that he would break first.

Minutes passed however, and Regulus didn't even twitch in his seat. Pursing her lips, Hermione tried not to get irrationally worked up about everything, and decided that if patient silence didn't work, then forced interrogation would have to do.

"What are you?" she demanded a little curtly, inwardly wincing at her own callous tone.

"A memory," Regulus replied smoothly, continuing to look at her with a curiously familiar mixture of arrogance and indifference written across his pearly, ghost-like face.

"How did you really get out of the diary?"

"You could ask Malfoy," Regulus side-stepped the issue with a light shrug while Hermione frowned.

"I'm asking you."

"And I am not telling," the supposed memory answered apathetically, irking Hermione with his laconism that made her involuntarily think of Lucius.

"Fine, fine," she conceded at last in defeat after a short-lived fight, having decided there was little use in arguing with an apparition. He obviously thought he was superior to her, and wouldn't be telling her anything if she undermined him so boldly. Hermione bit back her urge to be forthright and impatient, and took a few deep breaths to try and create some composure for herself. Closing her eyes for a moment to gather her thoughts, she realised that she was being presented with a great opportunity that she had inadvertently been wishing for ever since she had heard of Regulus' great deed; she had the chance to learn who Regulus had been and what had brought on his secret heroism.

Opening her eyes, she smiled as she looked up at him, allowing herself to be intrigued by the striking face that held no decipherable expression. Regulus' dark eyes narrowed a fraction as he observed her, but if he felt anything, he didn't show it. Swallowing back the murmur of anxiety bubbling in her, Hermione shifted a little on the bed and smoothed down her silken nightgown absent-mindedly.

"I'm sorry for interrogating you so…thoughtlessly," she said at last, feeling unduly nervous as she glanced up to meet his listless eyes. "I – I was just surprised to see you and… Why did you do it?" she interrupted herself abruptly, turning her fascinated gaze on Regulus.

"Do what?" he asked, still sounding unfazed, although his surprise was betrayed by the slight lifting of one dark eyebrow.

"Go against Voldemort –" Regulus flinched "–and try and destroy the Horcrux?"

Hermione watched him closely, a little breathless from her sudden excitement while Regulus appeared to grow greatly sombre at the mention of his past.

"Because it was right," he eventually answered in a flat tone.

"But you were supposed to be the 'good' son. Sirius said that –"

"Sirius?" Regulus interrupted curtly, making Hermione pause in uncertainty, unable to read his expression.

"Yes, Sirius," she confirmed in a softer voice. "He died –"

"You told me already," Regulus cut her off tersely with a tightened expression, reminding her again of Lucius, as he had been almost exactly the same in his expressions when they had been no more than strangers.

"I'm sorry," Hermione apologised, not knowing what else to say. A natural silence fell over the room as the two talkers fell short of words, neither knowing the other well enough to bring up a common topic. Hermione fidgeted with the edge of the bed sheets as she tried not to stare at the translucent form of Regulus, lost in her wonderment over how he was sitting in her room as though he were a fully mortal being. Doing her best to be surreptitious, she studied him through her lowered lashes as he turned his face away to look towards the drawn curtains. He looked deathly pale, but Hermione imagined it had something to do with the fact that he was only a memory and dismissed the thoughts on his strangely immortal disposition. Letting her gaze travel over his features, she found his high cheekbones and straight nose to be of envious perfection, while his lips were thin yet finely shaped. He could be thought of as handsome, but there was something too melancholy about him to make him appear as dashing as Sirius had been according to the pictures of his youth.

Hermione blinked and tried to pretend she hadn't been staring when Regulus turned his head back to look at her, but all notion of any embarrassment evaporated when she met his eyes.

They glowed dark embers in their deep misery, and Hermione was struck with the feeling that his sad eyes were looking straight into her soul with something akin to imploration. She felt her throat seize up in a sudden wave of overwhelming emotions that continued to tremor her heart, even when he glanced away and assumed a hardened expression on his young face.

"It seems I was wrong to come back," Regulus murmured with a hint of bitterness as he turned his face to look away at the wall.

"No, no," Hermione countered quickly, feeling a shred of desperation at the thought of losing him to his eternal sorrow. "There are – there are… No, it wasn't wrong of you to come back," she babbled before trying to console him with a calmer approach. He tilted his head to one side as his deep eyes found hers, and Hermione offered him a weak smile, only to be greeted by a flicker of scorn.

"You know nothing," he told her with a cold smile, his icy words piercing her hurtfully. Yet in the past, it had taken more than a few words and hateful looks to deter the unconquerable compassion raging within her, and Hermione persisted despite her heart's recoiling.

"Why not…tell me about…about whatever you want to talk about?" she suggested tentatively, feeling a sprig of hope at the sight of Regulus considering her with a calculating eye.

"Because I don't trust you."

Hermione jerked her head back a little in surprise at his blatant antipathy, feeling horribly wounded by his cold rejection. For a moment, she met his hostile gaze with a quivering spirit before he suddenly grew more and more translucent until she could see the patterns of the wall from behind him through his body.

"Goodbye," Regulus said stiffly in what seemed to be forced out from an incorrigible strain of courtesy as he continued to fade in tone.

"Will you come back?" Hermione asked him frantically as she leapt off the bed to hurry towards him. Regulus only stared back at her in answer as he vanished completely, leaving Hermione to swipe at the air in front of her with an expression of despair. She couldn't believe how badly she had ruined everything; all the chance she could have had to ask Regulus for helpful knowledge and even find things out about himself…

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" she muttered to herself angrily as she stood facing the trunk where he had been sitting, annoyed and wretched at the thought of him never coming back. She couldn't blame him really; she doubted she would want to come back if she had been treated in the way she had done to Regulus. He was obviously in much inner turmoil and pain, but she had just gone and trampled on his feelings like so many had undoubtedly done in the past.

Berating herself in quiet muttering, Hermione went about getting dressed with a heavy hand, greatly bothered by the appearance and disappearance of the memory of Regulus. Her conscience nagged at her constantly as she slipped into a set of dark magenta robes, unable to be distracted even as she charmed her hair to lie flatter and made her bed. With every movement, she thought of how callous and thoughtless she had been to him. How horrible and unkind!

She couldn't believe her own insensitivity; of all the people in the world, Regulus had certainly done nothing to deserve her ill faith. Even as she left her room to go down to the kitchen, Hermione found herself desperately wishing he would return so that she could set things right.

Her harrowing regret was forgotten when she walked down the few steps into the kitchen to see a glass hurling past inches from her face. Whipping out her wand, she peeked her head around the door cautiously to pinpoint the victim of bad temper and saw Lucius pacing with his back to her, angrily muttering something that Hermione couldn't quite pick up. Feeling the black clouds of his rage hanging ominously in the air, Hermione instinctively decided she needed to dispel it to ensure a better existence, and cleared her throat loudly while still standing just inside the long room.

Lucius whirled around to face her at the sound, and Hermione caught a glimpse of his enraged expression before it was swiftly replaced by one of tight indifference. Deciding that he wouldn't bite, Hermione walked small steps to sit down at the kitchen table, keeping a wary eye on Lucius as he stood before the unlit fireplace.

"Good morning," she said in an attempt to break the cold silence.

"Hardly," Lucius cut in with a slight grimace as he strode over to stand on the opposite side of the table, staring down at her with his brows pulled down in a frown.

"Would you like to sit down?" Hermione suggested lightly, fighting to keep her voice from breaking in tremulous fear as she inwardly shook at the sight of Lucius' ire.

"No, thank you," he replied coolly, making Hermione wonder how he managed to not fall ill when his moods could drop from burning fire to freezing temperatures in a matter of seconds.

"What's wrong?" she asked with a sigh, knowing that the question was inevitable in its asking.

"The diary. It is gone," Lucius announced flatly, his charm quite nonexistent in his foul temper. Hermione blinked a few times as she took in the information and let her mind play with all the loose threads of conclusions.

"Do you realise what this means?" Lucius asked her with a noticeable edge of irritation in his voice.

"That Regulus has run off with it," Hermione sighed as she rubbed her eyes tiredly.

"I beg your pardon?" Lucius demanded abruptly, hiding his miscomprehension with impatience while Hermione tried not to be overwhelmed by her guilty feelings of having been the one to make Regulus disappear. Lucius certainly wouldn't be impressed…

"I had a visitor today," she began heavily as she sighed again, propping her elbows up on the table to rest her face in her hands.

"What kind of visitor?" Lucius asked with narrowed eyes, immediately picking up that there would be little good news to be had of the upcoming revelation. Hermione suppressed the urge to berate herself with loud wailing as she lifted her eyes to look up at Lucius, discerning a certain amount of concern in his stormy eyes.

"He said he was a memory. Regulus, that is. I just woke up and saw him sitting in my room," she explained briefly, avoiding looking up at Lucius as she relived the moments.

"Was he corporeal?"

"No, more like a ghost. Except, he wasn't really. He looked almost solid, but he was see-through where light touched him."

"Did you speak with him?" Lucius asked in a calmed voice, his anger having been dropped and a careful apprehension raised in its place.

"Yes, but he didn't say much," Hermione explained, conveniently leaving out the details of her rude welcome, and evoking her guilt because of it.

"And where might he be now?"

"I – I don't know. I think I offended him and he disappeared."

"With the book."

"Yes, possibly with the book," Hermione agreed in slumping defeat, breathing out a long sigh to commemorate all the bad luck she had received so far. Closing her eyes as she leaned her face into her hands, she heard the slight scrape of a bench on the stone floor as Lucius presumably sat down opposite her. Opening her eyes, she saw him sitting upright across from her, watching her with a scrutinising eye. It seemed his frustration had returned again, for his gaze burned with the intensity of suppressed anger, and Hermione shuddered at the thought that it wouldn't take much to release his wrath from its cage.

Hoping to maintain her own level of questionable calmness, she called out for Kreacher, jumping slightly at hearing a loud crack right by her elbow.

"Master Harry's friend called?" Kreacher croaked as he gave a small bow to Hermione.

"I was just wondering if there was any breakfast to be had, Kreacher," Hermione said to him kindly, forgetting her worries as she concerned herself with the wizened house-elf.

"Kreacher will make breakfast for Master Harry's friend and Master Malfoy if they's wishes it."

"That would be very kind of you," Hermione told him, continuing her effort to treat him closer to an equal than he might have ever been treated before. "Have you been well?"

"Kreacher has been busy at the – the Weasley house," the elf said with a slight twist of disgust on his squashed face. "Mis-Mistress Weasley likes to keep poor Kreacher busy. But Kreacher will cook now for Master Harry's friend and Master Malfoy," the elf announced with another set of bows to both Hermione and a stony-faced Lucius before tottering off to the end of the kitchen where all the cooking was done, and humming out-of-tune as he began making breakfast. Hermione watched him work with a lingering smile of affection, her heart warmed by the sight of the elf looking so crankily happy. She glanced back at Lucius when she heard him make a soft noise of derision and fixed him with a firm look.

"Kreacher deserves a lot more than your scorn, you know," she told him sternly while Lucius turned to look at her with his pale features arching in mild contempt.

"One born from outside the community such as yourself, Miss Granger, may not know of some things, but there are hierarchies in the wizarding world that cannot be broken lest chaos reign. An elf is an elf; there can be no alteration in its station unless you wish to bring a lack of order into the world," Lucius countered coolly, making Hermione's indignation rise as they touched upon the subject of her old passion; house-elf rights.

"But everyone deserves freedom!" she rejoined ardently. "It's not our right or anybody else's to bind elves to us!"

"You would be thinking otherwise if there was no elf to make you breakfast," Lucius pointed out in cold amusement as his eyes flickered over to where Kreacher was happily frying bacon in a pan.

"But I did ask!" Hermione argued in a voice that threatened to grow loud. "If he had looked unhappy about it, or said so, I wouldn't have made him do it. I'm not the one who doesn't know how to cook for myself!"

"I wonder how long your indignation for house-elf rights would last if there were no elves and you were the one having to do all the chores?" Lucius mused aloud, deliberately sounding vague in his addressing of Hermione. For a moment, she felt greatly irked by his patronising manner, but then a wicked smirk twisted her lips as she thought of a retort.

"Well, I wouldn't be the one doing the chores if there were no house-elves," she told him breezily, causing one blond brow to arch in question.

"Oh?"

"We would duel, and whoever lost would have to do the most chores," Hermione told him primly, hiding her amusement behind a mock-serious façade while Lucius' eyes seemed to light up with something similar to mild amusement.

"Ah. Then I would surely win, just as you would surely be the next elf," Lucius remarked nonchalantly as two large plates full of steaming food came hovering their way, Kreacher's wheezing breath coming from underneath as he carried them over.

"What makes you think you'd win?" Hermione asked after thanking Kreacher and picking up her knife and fork to feast on the full English Breakfast he had cooked up.

"Experience," Lucius replied with a hint of smile as he delicately handled his cutlery.

"But your experience might have left you biased," Hermione pointed out, careful to make his prejudice sound like a possible thing and not a certainty.

"There could be some truth in that," Lucius conceded as he began to slice up his food. "However, I have little reason to doubt that my superior skill would fail to win."

"What if I played pirate tactics?" Hermione badgered him, beginning to enjoy their little argument.

"Pirate tactics?"

"As in, no rules."

"Then I would be permitted to play foul also."

"Perhaps we should try it out sometime…" Hermione said with a small wave of her fork. "Duelling, I mean."

"Perhaps," Lucius agreed noncommittally. "But you are not yet ready."

"How would you know?" Hermione said in a slight huff, trying not to cringe at her own petulant manner.

"I can see," Lucius drawled elusively, not looking up from his breakfast. Hermione blushed at the memory rendered up by his words; a memory of his eyes raking over her naked form covered only by a towel that had been painfully short. Growing redder still at the very thought of the incident, Hermione pretended that her baked beans were immensely fascinating and didn't lift her eyes even when she felt Lucius looking at her.

"You look ill, Miss Granger," she heard him remark and instinctively raised her face to look at him.

"I'm fine," she said hastily, nervous at having his piercing eyes look at her so intensely. "Just thinking about house-elf rights."

"Your time and thoughts are wasted upon that particular subject."

"Maybe in your eyes, but not in mine," Hermione argued in a calmer tone, giving a light shrug that bordered on indifference.

"I simply cannot comprehend what makes you think that such creatures are equal to us," Lucius confessed before lifting his fork to deliver a small morsel of sausage to his mouth.

"You've never had to face the disdain of another class," Hermione murmured in a low tone. "If you'd felt the humiliation of that mockery, you'd understand."

She didn't say anything more but continued to eat, silently satisfied to see Lucius grow ponderous over his own breakfast. If she could continue to make him see things through her eyes, maybe they would be able to come to a better understanding.

 

Time seemed to go slower than ever. Hermione grew restless as she sat on the couch in the drawing room, trying to concentrate on reading the large book open in her lap, but there was something in the air that made her fidget constantly in agitation. Glancing over her shoulder, she could see Lucius sitting at the desk with his back to her, pouring over one of the old manuscripts detailing something about the Black household and she marvelled at how purposeful he could be. They had been sitting in the drawing room for several hours now, but she hadn't been able to focus properly all morning. After their breakfast, Kreacher had departed, telling them that 'Master Harry is calling Kreacher', and leaving them with nothing to do but speculate on the memory of Regulus and do some work, or at least pretend to, in her case.

Emboldened by a sudden wave of determination, Hermione drew her attention back to her book, only to give up at the feeling of weariness that drifted over her at seeing the tiny print. Giving a small groan of defeat, she closed the book and set it down next to her, letting her head drop back to rest on the back of the couch.

"Perhaps you should go outside. It is hardly healthy for someone of your age to be caged inside the house for so long," Lucius drawled from where he sat leaning over his books. Hermione paused to think his suggestion over, and decided that it was a very reasonable one, although how age came into it, she didn't know.

"You're right," she said as she heaved herself off the couch and Summoned her cloak from downstairs. "It's so stuffy in here."

"It is an old house," Lucius pointed out without turning his eyes to her, even when Hermione came to his side to see what he was doing.

"You should get some fresh air as well," she said lightly as she glanced over his shoulder at the wearisome stack of old documents he had gathered. "I'm sure it's not healthy for you either."

"I have been through worse," Lucius answered dismissively, his refusal of her offer only serving to strengthen her determination to drag him out into the lingering snow.

"Still, it would do you some good to take a break," she persisted while wrapping herself up in her dark woollen cloak in anticipation of the cold outdoors.

"Perhaps later," Lucius murmured absent-mindedly as he began writing with swift strokes of his quill.

"Why not now?"

"I have work to do."

"It'll still be there when you get back," Hermione pointed out in a somewhat entreating tone, giving a small shrug when he turned his head to look up at her with curiosity.

"Are you expecting the trees to bite, Miss Granger?"

"What?" Hermione said in surprise, before realising from the slight twitch of his lips that he was making a joke, which was a feat in its own right, even if his amusement was at her expense.

"Surely there is no danger in a little stroll outside?"

"No, not at all," Hermione clarified smoothly. "It's just that… Well, it would be nice to have some company."

She felt her cheeks blush of their own accord as Lucius' eyes narrowed a fraction as her words sunk in. It was evident that her wish was rather unexpected, but Hermione was grateful when he made no embarrassing comments on the matter, but set down his quill and gracefully stood up from his chair to Summon his own cloak with a casual flourish of his wand. She watched him in silent observation as he pulled on his black leather gloves and picked up his cane that was leaning against the table and turned to her with one eyebrow raised.

"Shall we?"

Hermione gave a quick nod before leading them out of the drawing room, feeling both a little nervous and surprisingly relieved to have Lucius accompanying her. Drawing back the locks on the front door, she stepped out into the crisp air and sighed in forgetful bliss as she inhaled the scent of winter. Everywhere she looked, she could see that snow still covered all surfaces, and the vast expanse of untainted white made her smile in happy satisfaction. Making her way down the steps, she opened the black wrought iron gate and crossed the road to enter the small, fenced square, knowing that Lucius was following only a few steps behind.

Standing in the centre of the barren park, Hermione sighed peacefully as she closed her eyes and drank in the icy fumes of nature's seasonal coldness, all thoughts fading away as she enjoyed the simplicity of nature. She heard the soft crunch of snow behind her and opened her eyes to see Lucius walking with a regal gait towards her. She couldn't help but smile at him as her sudden revelation to life's beauty overflowed from her and made her want to share her spark of joy with anyone and everyone.

"There is nothing quite like a good winter's day," Lucius remarked as he came to stand near her, looking quite different as his arrogance melted away in his veiled awe of the beauty around him.

"It's so lovely, isn't it?" Hermione agreed before wandering over to one of the black-trunked trees to run a finger over the incredible texture of the bark. Somehow, everything seemed suddenly brighter and better in her eyes, and Hermione was overwhelmed by the urge to laugh in rejoicing at her new lease of life. Turning to Lucius with an irrepressible smile lighting up her face, she let out a light laugh as she gestured to the trees.

"Look how beautiful they are!"

Lucius' eyes flew down to her from where they had been regarding the snow-clouded skies, and Hermione beamed at him all the more. She felt young and green and foolish, but jubilant in a way that seemed almost impossible, given her current situation. When Lucius merely raised an inquisitive brow at her declaration, Hermione laughed again as she turned back to the trees, running a hand lightly over the trunk as she regarded the leafless branches.

"They look rather dead, in my humble opinion," Lucius said from unexpectedly close by, making Hermione jump. After the initial shock had subsided, she tilted her face to see him as he stalked into her line of vision, coming to stand by her side to eye the tree with an unreadable expression.

"There's still beauty in their death. I suppose nature can romanticise anything and get away with it," Hermione mused aloud as she touched the roughness of the bark again.

"Hmm…" Lucius hummed noncommittally as he also ran a gloved finger along the ridges of the tree's skin.

"I feel so alive today," Hermione admitted quietly as she dropped her hand back to her side and stared at the wood.

"That is good news," Lucius responded evenly, making it hard to discern whether there was any sarcasm in his words.

"I didn't think I could feel so…invigorated," Hermione continued, ignoring the debate that arose within her at the thought of Lucius' subtle tones.

"A little fresh air always helps," Lucius remarked while Hermione merely nodded in agreement, feeling herself falling into a deep calm as they stood side by side, wallowing in peaceful silence.

"Do you ever think about what would have happened if Voldemort had survived?" Hermione asked suddenly, seeing her breath rise upon the frosty air. She turned to look at Lucius as he stood motionless with his proud profile to her, his face a mask of indifference.

"I do," he said with barely a murmur of his lips. "The world would be a darker place."

Hermione sighed in conceding, feeling brave despite the barrier of ice that stood between her and all the things of the past. She could understand why Lucius tensed up visibly when she turned the conversation in that direction, but she was being filled with the urge to talk about it, and she hoped it would help solve something between them.

"Did you ever know about Regulus doing what he did?"

"I had little time to be concerned over him," Lucius replied expressionlessly, still avoiding looking at her and staring off into the distance.

"But you were good friends with Professor Snape?"

"Yes," was the terse reply.

"He was a brave man too," Hermione remarked with a sigh as she tucked her hands into the collar of her cloak to keep them from freezing.

"More than most," Lucius acknowledged with a slight incline of his head.

"But why do the brave always die?" Hermione pressed on, thinking of all the deaths that had passed during the war. Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye, Dumbledore, Fred…

"Because they would put the rest of us to shame."

Hermione quickly looked up at Lucius again, surprised by his answer yet pleased also. Grey eyes flickered over to meet hers as he turned his face to her, his jaw tight in a hardened expression.

"Sometimes, death is a luxury only the brave can afford," Lucius finished in a low murmur that made Hermione strain in order to hear it all. When she realised what he meant, she couldn't help but stare at him in wonder, confused and intrigued by whatever secrets he sheltered.

"Have you ever wanted to die?" she asked quietly, never leaving his steely eyes as they stared straight into her.

"Wishing for death is for the weak. As is fearing death," Lucius replied coldly, making Hermione's mood wilt towards melancholy.

"How you can be so ruthless, I don't know…" she murmured with a small shake of her head as her eyes left his to travel over the snowy scenery.

"It is who I am," Lucius said simply, making Hermione face him again quickly as a sudden flash of indignation pulsed through her.

"That isn't true!" she told him fiercely while he looked at her with mild surprise. "You're so much more than that!"

"Your faith in me really is quite touching, Miss Granger," Lucius drawled arrogantly as he turned away in supposed disinterest, "but I am afraid you are much mistaken."

"About what?" Hermione demanded slightly breathlessly, feeling the sharp air stinging her lungs a little.

"About me."

"It's true," she agreed with a slight huff, "I don't know you that well and we're not from the same walks of life, but I can tell a human being when I see one."

"The question is, are you seeing through your eyes or through your heart?" Lucius said before taking slow steps away from her and wandering over to the snow-covered bench. Puffing slightly in irritation, Hermione followed him quickly, marching to his side as he cleared the snow with his wand.

"I don't see why you're so reluctant to face things," she told him persistently while Lucius continued to take no notice of her. "Aren't you glad I think of you as more than a Death Eater?"

"What you think of me is none of my concern," Lucius stated indifferently as he leisurely sat down. "You would not understand the greater context of my life, so your view of me is quite worthless."

Hermione plonked herself down on the bench with a brooding expression, feeling wounded by his cold words. After all this time, she had thought that he was steadily beginning to cast off his mask of apathy and unravel the threads of his humanity, but maybe she had been wrong yet again.

"You seem to make it your responsibility to grow concerned over other people's situations, but let me tell you now, Miss Granger, that people do not appreciate being crooned over by the self-serving, vain, do-gooders such as your kind self who insist on righting all the wrongs in the world when it is not their place to do so."

For a moment, Hermione thought she might actually cry in both astonishment and instant hurt at his knife-like words that cut through her heart. She had forgotten just whom she was trying to befriend, and this cruel reminder made her insides sting with unexplainable pain. Somewhere along the way, she had forgotten that it was Lucius Malfoy whom she was with, and the realisation that she had been silly and gotten carried away with her own striving to do good made her want to laugh in scorn at her own foolishness. Maybe Lucius was right; her relentless desire to help others was probably some sort of vain and selfish complex. Maybe she was just a narrow-minded, foolish, naïve nobody who had thought herself to be above others by her good deeds…

"If you will excuse me, I have work to do," Lucius announced quietly before rising from the bench and returning back to the house, leaving Hermione sitting alone on the bench with a thin trail of bitter tears trailing down her cheek.

 

Lucius sighed as he sat down at the desk again, leaning his face into his hands as he rested his elbows on the various books and parchment. He raised his face to look out of the window and down to the square below where he could see the girl still sitting where he had left her. He tried not to feel guilty for making her upset, but the intolerable feeling refused to go away as he stared down at her small figure. He had meant his words to serve as a reminder, not only that she should be wary of him, but to realise that life wasn't all sunshine and butterflies. Besides, it was for her own good; being innocent never helped anyone in a world such as theirs.

No matter how much he tried to accept her as a temporary extension to his life, Lucius couldn't shake off the feeling that he was beginning to stumble, lost in the darkness of ignorance. The way Granger treated him… Well, it was just too unfamiliar. She acted as though they had known each other for a long time and were good friends, when those who had actually known him for a long time treated him like a forced acquaintance. Lucius wasn't accustomed to any sort of intimacy in his relationships with fellow human beings, and Granger's familiarity with him unsettled him. Even Narcissa, who had always understood him perfectly and mirrored his every thought, had never been able to treat him with anything more than the affection of a much respected companion. Granger, on the other hand, could and would talk to him as though she had spent all her life by his side. A fact that was discomforting in its suggestion of some kind of closeness between them.

He was being uncharacteristically tolerant of her and her honest ways, but there was only so much Lucius could take of her friendliness. While he had no wish to war with her, it was obvious to him that there could be nothing more than polite forbearance between them. That was the way it had always worked for him; he could accept anything to a certain extent, but the moment the object of his neutral indifference began warming to him, he would push it away. No matter how much he could pretend to enjoy the sparkle of society, Lucius would never delight in human company. That was for humane people like Granger.

Despite the girl's good intentions, Lucius could see that some poor soul would probably be driven insane by her righteous ideals and it was only kind to let her down now before she rose too high on the wrong cloud. Well, perhaps kind wasn't the right word, but it didn't matter. All Lucius could think about, was how bad he was feeling for leaving her out there in the cold, after having made her cry. Downright rude, his father would have exclaimed while he was sure the portraits of his forefathers would have muttered something about a definite lack of chivalry.

Letting out a heavy breath, Lucius rubbed his jaw ruefully as he watched the Granger girl stand up slowly and wander to the rugged bushes near the black fence, unable to tear his eyes away from the chillingly melancholic scene. He tried to convince himself that he had done the right thing, and there was no reason to feel guilty for his harsh words, as he was Lucius Malfoy after all, but still…

He had no more time to speculate, as a dark shape swooped down from the listless grey sky and came to the long window to tap at it with its hooked break. Drawing his wand, Lucius made the windows open while the handsome eagle owl that looked rather familiar flapped onto the table, giving a doleful hoot at landing so gracelessly.

"And how are you, Strix?" he murmured to the bird as it ruffled its feathers before smoothing them out and giving a soft squawk in answer. Lucius gently ran a finger along the top of the owl's head in an affectionate greeting before he untied the letter being offered to him by one leg with a great talon. Glancing over it, he recognised the crimson seal of his own family's crest and felt his spirits sink. He barely noticed when the owl rubbed its head against his hand in farewell before it took off again, but simply stared at the cream parchment of the letter in his hand.

After stalling for a long moment, Lucius suddenly snapped to, slitting open the letter in a fearsome movement, feeling a storm brewing upon his horizon. When he recognised his son's familiar handwriting, he frowned before several short sentences near the bottom of the letter caught his attention and made him snarl.

 

Hermione paused as she stepped back inside the house, bemused to hear the sound of something heavy thumping to the floor upstairs. Closing and locking the front door quietly, she listened to the curious sounds of footsteps from what seemed to be the drawing room, and heard another small crash as well as muffled swearing.

Passing her hand quickly over her now-dry eyes, she made a quick ascent up the staircase and came to halt outside the closed door of the drawing room. Pressing her ear to the wood, she heard what sounded like furniture being upturned as Lucius' muffled voice muttered curses. Hermione hesitated, uncertain if it was wise to enter the room while he was blatantly in a foul mood. If she were to go by her new resolution of not to interfere with other people, she should just leave Lucius to it, but she found it much easier thought than done. Sighing in weary conflict, Hermione drew a deep breath before quietly turning the doorknob and letting herself in.

"Who on earth does he think he is?" Lucius was muttering to himself as he furiously paced a tight circle in the centre of the room, unintentionally shooting a few red sparks out of his wand. Hermione watched nervously as he stopped by the table with his back to her to seemingly glare out the window. Swallowing with some difficulty, she took a few more steps into the room before clearing her throat.

"What the devil do you want?" Lucius snapped as he whirled around at the sound, his nostrils flaring and eyes dark with rage.

"Is – is something the matter?" Hermione asked tentatively, trying to ignore the hurt that spiked at her heart upon hearing his harsh tone.

"It is none of your business!" he told her curtly as he turned back to the window, learning forwards with his hands resting on the numerous texts covering the surface of the desk. Hermione bit back a wounded retort as she realised insolence wasn't the best thing to wave before an enraged Lucius, and stood motionless for a moment to decide what to do.

She watched with anxious inquisitiveness as she saw his shoulders eventually slump a little while his head bowed, his long hair lying loosely along his neck in a somewhat dishevelled ponytail. It made Hermione nervous to see him looking anything less than immaculate, and her worry for him grew when she saw him sink slowly into the nearby chair with an unusual look of defeat.

"Never have an only child, Miss Granger. It will only bring you grief," Lucius said in a voice that expressed sudden exhaustion.

Ah. So Draco is the one making all the trouble.

"What makes you say that?" Hermione asked in a deliberately softened tone, judging it to be safe enough to approach him.

"It is a fact," Lucius replied simply as he continued to stare out the window. "I am certain my father would say the same."

"What's Draco done now?"

"He has written to me."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"That is dependable upon what subject he chooses to write about."

"Oh…" Hermione uttered in quiet realisation. Obviously, Draco had written something that had wounded either Lucius' ego or his pride enough to make the elder Malfoy have a fit. She didn't ask for any more details as she knew it was definitely inadvisable to probe into the matters of a highly private man, and simply did her best to stand beside him in an unobtrusive manner.

Glancing down, Hermione could see a letter lying on top of all the open books, looking rather crumpled as though it had been crushed in an angry fist. The yellow parchment was covered by a thin, slanting hand that made it difficult to read from where she stood, but it still didn't stop her from trying.

"You are useless at subtlety," Lucius remarked witheringly as he plucked up the abused letter and surprisingly, thrust it towards her. "Read it before that atrocious curiosity of yours gets the better of you."

Hermione chose not to make a response as she took the letter out of his hand, astonished by his unexpected generosity in sharing his privacy. Without wasting any more time, she began to read the words that had caused him such great offence.

Dear father,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. This winter has been rather cold, hasn't it? The manor is covered in a foot of snow and it is only today, that I have managed to go outside without being frozen alive. Mother says it is the first time in a decade since so much snow fell and told me all about the time when uncle Rodolphus threw you down a snowdrift the last time it snowed this much. I hope you don't mind, but I could not stop smiling all day at that thought. 

Christmas was so quiet without you, and mother and I had to resort to bringing in the portraits of grandfather and great-aunt Caurina for some company. Remind me never to allow such a thing again. Grandfather made such inappropriate jokes that I thought mother would cry. He said that since you weren't here to do the job, he had better do it for you. I almost burned the portrait then; I don't think you've ever made mother cry. Not directly anyhow. 

Pansy wrote me a horribly romantic letter and sent a disgusting ring that turned out to be cursed with dragon pox and I had to stop mother from sending a cursed howler back. Sometimes, I wonder if mother is really as nice as she seems; aunt Bellatrix once mentioned something about her cursing a boy in school…

A late Merry Christmas to you and an early Happy New Year. I wish you were home for that. How are things with Granger? Is she annoying? I hope she isn't being difficult. Mother was complaining how terrible it was that you had to waste your time with her when we need you here with us. I don't think she is very happy with the current state of things, but maybe it will change soon.

Wishing you well,

Your son.

Hermione's eyes flickered over it all again to try and see if there was actually anything upsetting in the letter, but she could find nothing. For all she could see, it was a very touching letter that a surprisingly loving Draco had written and she couldn't understand why Lucius was having such a nasty outbreak of ill temper.

"I – I don't see what's wrong with this," she said at last, slowly handing the letter back to Lucius while he looked up at her sharply.

"Did you read it?"

"Twice."

"He is certainly up to something," Lucius mused darkly. "My son would never write a sentimental letter unless he was being forced to do it at wandpoint."

"Did it ever occur to you that he might be actually sincere about this and mean it?" Hermione asked in a light tone while Lucius glanced up at her with a raised brow.

"Mean what, exactly?"

"Well, you know…his affection and all that."

"It is clear that you know nothing about Draco."

"That's true, but maybe you're missing out on something about him as well."

"And what would that be?" Lucius challenged her haughtily as he tilted his head back to eye her with arrogant condescension.

"The fact that he loves you very much?" Hermione offered in reply, not surprised at all to see a slight sneer of disdain curl Lucius' upper lip.

"He has no reason to do such a thing," he brushed off in a snide dismissal of the idea.

"Why not? You're his father, and I have no doubt that he looks up to you more than anyone else."

"A grave mistake on his part," Lucius murmured as he reached for the letter again to look it over. "Why would he write such a thing to me?"

"Because he loves you. It's very simple, you know," Hermione said gently as Lucius stared at his son's greetings. "Just like how you love him."

"I do not deserve his forgiveness," Lucius muttered bitterly as his fingers slowly crushed the parchment in his closing fists. Hermione merely looked at him with sadness and pity swelling in her heart, pained as she realised what was causing Lucius so much anger. She couldn't begin to imagine what it would feel like to have one's child forgive so unconditionally, but she could guess that Lucius was rearing back in rage at the feeling of guilt that was likely swamping him.

"Everyone deserves forgiveness," Hermione reassured him softly as she reached over to gently prise the letter out of his clenched fists and smooth it out before setting it to the side. "You are no exception, Lucius."

Hermione smiled a little as he gave no reply except a dry look, showing his doubt on the matter.

"I cannot fathom what in the world would make you think that I am even close to being forgivable," Lucius said in mild disbelief as he slowly let his tension fall, apparently a little thrown by her ideas.

"Maybe because you care for your son? That's definitely a virtue to balance out a vice."

"Perhaps," Lucius replied noncommittally as he leaned back a little in his seat.

"Why don't you write back to Draco? I'm sure he'd be happy to hear from you," Hermione suggested in the hope that Lucius might improve whatever relations he had with his son. "Maybe you could even meet with him…"

"Family affairs are best kept within the family, Miss Granger," Lucius stated in a clipped tone before his hard expression melted ever so slightly. "However, I appreciate your advice."

"It's the least I can do," Hermione said with a sigh as she thought of all the things she could have done for Regulus that morning. If only she hadn't been so thoughtless…

"We will have to find that diary," Lucius said evenly, breaking into her line of regretful thoughts.

"I think it's more of a matter of Regulus finding us," Hermione said unhappily as she gazed out the window and down to the snowy square. "He's so very lost. It was very bad of me to greet him like that…"

"What happened?" Lucius enquired with both eyebrows raised, mildly surprised at her hinting of secrets.

"I was just very callous and pretty much used him to try and get some information."

"And why did this method not work?" Lucius said with a frown that indicated his incomprehension on why taking advantage of people was a bad thing when it was for a reasonable cause.

"Well, he's obviously been trapped in that diary for years. The memory of him at least. It can't have been pleasant to be welcomed by me like that. I'm such a dunce," Hermione stated with a flutter of misery.

"He will return," Lucius assured her smoothly.

"How do you know?"

"Anyone who has been deprived of society for that long is bound to return after experiencing some attention from your overly-concerned self," Lucius reasoned lightly, making Hermione wonder if he was trying to insult her or compliment her. From the way he refrained from sneering or adding further remarks, she guessed that he was at least trying to be acceptably nice. Maybe he feels guilty for being horrid to me earlier? It was a far-fetched theory, but it wasn't exactly impossible…

"What I said earlier to you was unkind."

Hermione looked at Lucius with wide-eyed surprise at hearing his stiff attempt at an apology, noticing the signs of his discomfort as his pale eyes flicked up towards her and his fingers twitched slightly.

"It was wrong of me to say such things. It was not my intention to be rude."

"If you're asking for forgiveness," Hermione told him with a sigh, "I've already given it to you for that. What you said did have some valid points and it helped me think some things through."

Lucius merely inclined his head in silent acceptance while Hermione gave him a weary smile. She realised that he had just faced a milestone by even making an effort to sound sincerely apologetic, and didn't want to push him for more when he was bound to be near his limits. Still, she wanted him to know that she meant what she said about forgiving him, and thank him for all the unexpected knowledge and protection his mere presence inadvertently gave her.

"Thank you," she murmured as she reached over to lightly squeeze his shoulder, feeling him stiffen momentarily at her touch before he relaxed.

"Thank you for making such a great sacrifice and being here," she added in explanation as she kept her hand resting where it was, feeling that a barrier had melted as he allowed her to touch him.

"Your forgiveness compensates for any sacrifice I make," Lucius answered quietly as he reached up with one hand to brush his fingers lightly against hers before he brought it back down to sort out the parchment muddled before him. Hermione gave a smile to the back of his busy head as she withdrew her hand and watched him settle back into work.

Neither of them noticed the pair of ghostly eyes watching from a shadowed corner.

 

41\. Secret Keeper

Three days passed by Grimmauld Place effortlessly, each hour seemingly repeating the last and keeping the atmosphere in the house from rising to anything beyond mild ennui. Lucius had kept to himself throughout, finding some kind of solace and companionship in the many books he studied while sitting at the desk in the drawing room. Hermione's time had been spent mainly watching him work, her hands holding a book merely to keep up the pretence that she was actually doing something. In truth, she was simply waiting for Regulus to return, but he hadn't reappeared so far and she had begun to think that he wouldn't ever. Her prolonged anticipation was becoming excruciating, especially as time seemed to be slipping through her fingers as she waited restlessly.

Hermione disliked confusion very much, and it was unfortunate for her that life could be terribly confusing at times. She couldn't think of a truer statement as she pondered over the meaning of existence and everything that stemmed from it as she idly paced the dusty floor of Sirius' old room. She had needed a place to think over things without being constantly reminded that she was in the house of some ancient pure-blood family, and Sirius may have been a reckless, bold black sheep in the line, but at least he had had the decency to be a little more original in decorating his room with colours other than the typical Slytherin style.

Even as she glanced around at the fading Gryffindor banners, Hermione felt a certain glow of pride and nostalgia as she imagined the naïve days of unblemished innocence when she had been nothing but a bright, young student eager to learn. Those had been the days when the sky had been clear of black clouds and she had had a relatively normal school life. Even when Voldemort had come back to life, their fight had seemed so much more…joyful than she felt now. Despite the dangers and risks that came with fighting in a war, there had been a certain feeling of fierce love and protection as everyone had looked out for each other.

Now, Hermione simply felt empty and lost. There was no Dark Lord to fight; no great evil to conquer; just an unexplainable curse that was bound to have some kind of cure. Still, she had never felt so alone before. Harry was around, of course, as was her constant guardian, but it wasn't quite the same as being surrounded by support on all sides. This time, the war was aimed only at her, and she felt helpless as the curse isolated her from all those she had held closest to her last time.

Glancing around listlessly at the poster-covered walls, Hermione saw four schoolboys waving and grinning happily from an old photograph, oblivious to their futures and destinations. Hermione smiled sadly back at them as she came to stand before the picture stuck to the wall, filled with a wistful pity at the four friends who had all gone separate ways, only to be united at death. It seemed cruel to have such friendship dashed against the rocks of fate; Hermione even felt a stir of pity for Peter Pettigrew as he beamed up at her, ecstatic to be included in such a precious group.

Shaking her head in sad acceptance, Hermione turned her thoughts back to Regulus as she left the room with slow steps. Her mind was filled with ideas and questions about him, much as it had been in the last few days. The fact that the book moved around without human intervention certainly puzzled her, but she was more intrigued with the idea that a part of Regulus had been preserved in a memory. She still couldn't shake off the dreaded feeling that he was a Horcrux, but Lucius had reassured her that it was lacking some of the darker qualities needed to make it an official Horcrux. They hadn't talked about it much, as both had been busy sorting different thoughts out in their heads, but Hermione decided it was high time she found out some more about the mysterious situation.

She picked up her pace as she descended the various flights of stairs to the first floor, feeling a little revived by the thought of having some purpose. Upon reaching the drawing room, Hermione entered with practised quietude, having learnt that Lucius didn't enjoy being disturbed when at work. She was far from surprised when she saw him sitting with his back to her, his long hair neatly tied down at his nape with a black ribbon. The winter sun poured through the long window before the desk and lighted his form with its white-gold beams, making his fair hair glow slightly in a deceivingly beatific manner.

Hermione paused by the door to admire the pleasing sight of the unexpected scholar, and couldn't help feeling how wondrous it seemed. There had been no glimpse of the old Machiavellian in Lucius for weeks; he truly seemed a changed man in the present atmosphere. Trying her best not to lose her head over the heartening thought of his reformation, Hermione walked over to him with the grace she strived to cultivate. Lucius looked up on hearing her footsteps, and turned his head to face her as she came to his side.

"Bored already, Miss Granger?" he asked with what was probably feigned concern, sounding very much like a father who had paused in his work to try and solve his child's boredom.

"More like curious, I'd say," Hermione clarified as she glanced over the different texts littered across the surface of the desk. "I was hoping to ask you about something."

"Oh really?" Lucius drawled arrogantly as he set down his quill and leaned back in his chair to gaze up at her with haughty interest.

"Yes, really," Hermione affirmed calmly, having grown used to his subtle manipulation of power within a conversation.

"Do ask," he prompted generously while waving a gesture of invitation with one languid hand.

"You never explained fully about the blood poisoning…" Hermione began slowly as she leaned against the edge of the desk.

"And you were hoping to hear more about it?" Lucius finished for her, his pale eyes flickering away to look out the window.

"Um…yes. Regulus did suggest to me to ask you, as he wouldn't tell me," Hermione explained while Lucius narrowed his eyes in a calculating look.

"And rightly so. It is a complicated subject that takes a long time to both explain and understand."

"Well, there's plenty of time, isn't there?" she reasoned as she crossed her arms over her chest in an instinctive sign of her stubbornness. Lucius breathed out a half-sigh as he considered the talk ahead and eventually looked up at her again.

"Perhaps we could discuss this in the luxury of fresh air?" he suggested lightly, his expression looking a little drawn.

"That sounds reasonable," Hermione agreed as she glanced out the window to observe the square below, the snow quite gone from the scene. She straightened up and fetched her cloak that was draped across the back of the couch while Lucius rose from his seat and Summoned his own outerwear. When she had pulled on her mantle of deep blue and Lucius had swathed himself in his handsome black, Hermione led the way after Lucius had silently gestured for her to do so.

The fenced square outside was bare and glum in its sparse decoration of nature, but Hermione thought it suited the mood of her current life quite well. Looking around the empty streets, she was both surprised and relieved to see that the roads were quite deserted, the Muggle residents keeping to the comfort of their warm homes. She was joined by Lucius as she stood looking around in the centre of the small patch of parkland. Closing her eyes briefly to breathe in the fresh air, Hermione savoured the scent of winter while her companion seemed to do the same. Turning a little to face him, she met his cool-eyed gaze with a slight smile, touched by his silent sincerity.

"I think you're working too much," she told him as she observed the veiled look of weariness that flashed across his features.

"One can never work too much," Lucius countered nonchalantly as he resumed his mask of indifference, looking away from her to raise his eyes to the grey skies.

"Well, suit yourself," Hermione conceded with a slight shrug. "I just don't think it's good of you to let yourself waste away like that."

"I am not wasting away," Lucius exacted in a firm tone.

"You're skipping out on meals," Hermione pointed out in sullen argument while Lucius shot her an impatient look.

"Food is not always the supplement of life," he answered curtly.

"Yes, but you can't survive on books and whisky alone," Hermione argued back mildly. "It's not good for you."

"And you would know this due to…?" Lucius drawled in a bored tone as he grew weary of her persisting nature.

"Extensive research on human nature," Hermione answered promptly in her best impersonation of Percy Weasley. Lucius seemed to want to make some retort for her petulant behaviour, but evidently decided otherwise as he instead, gave her a dark look of disapproval

"Not by me, of course, but by scientists," Hermione hurriedly added.

"Scientists?"

"That's what we call Muggles whose profession is to do with science," Hermione explained as she followed Lucius, who was slowly walking towards the irregular line of trees.

"I know what they are," he said dismissively as he continued to wander forwards.

"You do?" Hermione asked in surprise, having never expected Lucius of all people to know anything about Muggles.

"Just because I do not admire Muggles, it does not necessarily mean I wish to remain ignorant of them and their powers," Lucius elaborated in a cold tone of musing.

"Oh, so it's a matter of keeping your enemies closer?" Hermione suggested as she came to stand next to him as he observed the unimpressive trees with mild interest.

"Not quite. In this case, ignorance would be the enemy, and I wish to keep that assailant far away indeed," Lucius drawled pensively as he reached up with one gloved hand to pluck off one dead leaf from a withered branch that drooped down.

"What else do you know about Muggles, then?" Hermione asked as she watched him curiously, her initial surprise lingering as she considered the idea of Lucius and Muggles.

"More than enough," he answered vaguely as he examined the dry wisp of a leaf in his palm.

"Do you still hate them?" Hermione questioned in insatiable curiosity as she studied Lucius in the warming sunshine.

"I neither like nor dislike them," he replied as he slowly shredded the skeletal foliage to pieces. "I abhor their ignorance, but that does not mean I hate them."

"But I always had the impression you hated Muggles and Muggleborns? I mean, I know you said it wasn't a personal dislike, but you've got to have had some hate for them if you wanted to eradicate them."

Lucius exhaled through his nose in a sign of controlled impatience as he closed his fist and crushed the remnants of the shrunken leaf. Hermione winced minutely at the sudden movement, but convinced herself to be calm as she knew he would be too controlled to snap just yet.

"It is impossible to tell of my views on such matters in mere words," he stated in a slow, thoughtful tone. "They are a part of my history."

"Have you ever told anyone your life story?" Hermione asked quietly while his expression hardened at the thought and he kept his proud profile to her.

"Only the dead know of my past," Lucius answered flatly, causing a slight shudder to pass through Hermione as she speculated on what his answer could imply.

"Did you ever think to…well, to explain your reasons for being a Death Eater?" she asked tentatively, knowing that she was approaching a topic that might still be too sore to attend to just yet.

"I have told the Ministry all they need to know about the subject. What they do with the information is entirely their responsibility and concern," Lucius replied curtly as he turned his head to glance at her coldly.

"You do realise how unbelievable it might sound though?" Hermione prompted. "Most people wouldn't be able to understand what the reasons were that drove you to be a Death Eater. The world probably thinks you're pure evil, and I admit I used to as well. Don't you want to set that all straight?"

"They may hate and misunderstand me all they like. I have no care for what the world thinks of me," Lucius replied frostily as he turned his pointed face towards her.

"But… How can you be so indifferent to it all? Doesn't it ever bother you?" Hermione pressed on in a softened voice, unable to understand how someone could be so unfeeling.

"There would be little use wasting the truth upon those who would not recognise it," Lucius answered in clipped tones.

"Do you have absolutely no faith in humanity, then?" Hermione enquired in rising passion. "Surely you don't honestly believe that everyone is incapable of understanding?"

"I prefer to keep my business to myself," was the haughty answer.

"But don't you owe people an explanation? If you can't apologise to your victims, at least you could make some kind of believable explanation for the effected families…"

"Your prejudice against me has made you deluded, Miss Granger," Lucius bit in with a cold gleam in his eyes. "Never, have I given cause for a family to mourn their dead."

"But – but… Didn't you… Um, didn't you ever kill?" Hermione said in a nervous squeak as she twisted her fingers together.

"Kill? Yes. Murder? No," Lucius said tersely as he turned back to direct his glare at the trees.

"Is there much difference?" Hermione said with a sigh as her anxiety melted into deep sadness. "It's still taking a life."

"A life which would have made this world even more of a hell than it already is," Lucius murmured bitterly. "I could not bear the thought of that revolting creature touching something that was not his to touch."

"Who was it?" Hermione asked in a whisper, simultaneously intrigued and horrified by the spilling of a dark secret.

"No one worth naming."

"And you killed him because…?"

"It is too sordid a thing for your ears," Lucius said abruptly as an expression of steely resolution came over his features. "It is hardly the kind of thing to talk about in this moment."

"I hope you don't mean to say I'm too young to hear it?" Hermione said with a slight frown, feeling somewhat affronted at the idea.

"Age was not the quality I had in mind," Lucius corrected darkly while Hermione let her irritation settle in relief.

"Do you think it will make me squirm?" she asked in a low tone of intrigue while Lucius paused to catch her gaze with his silver eyes.

"It will make you die, Miss Granger," he answered in a voice barely above a murmur, causing Hermione to shudder involuntarily at his spine-chilling reply.

"Never ask to hear of such things again," he told her quietly in a tone that brooked no argument whatsoever. Hermione dumbly nodded, lost for words as she considered the sinister terror behind the secrets Lucius kept so well. It shocked her to think what kind of things he knew and how he could continue to know them without going recognisably mad. If he thought she would be so greatly affected by hearing such secrets, Hermione reasoned that they had to be truly terrible, because why would he keep them away from her if he could otherwise gain some amusement from frightening her?

"You wished to ask me about something?" Lucius reminded her coolly, breaking through the busy thoughts whirring through her head.

"Oh, yes. I completely forgot about that," she admitted ruefully as she reluctantly let the previous subject drop.

"Undoubtedly," Lucius remarked drily while Hermione turned her mind back to the notions regarding Regulus and the enchanted diary.

"I'm guessing that the memory of Regulus somehow came back to life after that knife cut you, but I don't know much about blood poisoning. Could you explain it to me?" she implored him politely, drawing her dark cloak tighter around her to keep out the penetrating seasonal chill. Lucius gave a small sigh at her request, but began without any other hints of his impatience.

"Blood poisoning is a somewhat obscure branch of magic that is particularly esoteric to the older families," he explained in careful speech. "The reason why the victim is supposedly poisoned is due to some of their blood being taken by outer forces, leaving the magic in their system temporarily incoherent and confused. The assaulter can then use the sampling of blood to revive magic contained in other objects."

"But how can the blood be so powerful if only a small amount is taken?" Hermione asked with a frown, her mind buzzing as it took in the new information.

"It is an intricacy produced by the laws of magic," Lucius explained knowingly while Hermione nodded slowly.

"So, Regulus used your blood to give life to the diary?"

"I imagine it to be so," Lucius responded musingly. "Black has enough brains to come up with such a scheme."

"But this diary… You said it was Voldemort's, didn't you?" Hermione asked as Lucius languidly turned so that he faced her.

"I did once perceive it to be on a bookshelf in the old Riddle mansion, but whether the Dark Lord enchanted it or not, I cannot tell," he drawled nonchalantly while Hermione let out a frustrated sigh as the situation still left her stumped.

"I just wish Regulus would come back…" she said with another sigh as she leaned back against a tree and lifted her eyes to observe the vast stretch of placid blue sky above her.

"Be patient," Lucius advised her smoothly as their moods slipped back into a dreary lull. "He will come."

"There's nothing to say he will, though," Hermione pointed out, a little putout at the thought.

"It is only his arrogance that keeps him away," Lucius told her in soothing reassurance while Hermione looked up at him in mild surprise. "He knows what awaits him here and his abject loneliness will overpower his sense of pride."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked with raised eyebrows as she stared at him in continued surprise.

Lucius actually smiled as he answered, "Because I do." Hermione didn't bother asking him to elaborate on the subject as she knew it would be in vain, and instead, satisfied herself by enjoying the strangely agreeable look of Lucius indulging her with a small smile. She liked it when he forgot himself enough to show a little warmth every now and then. It made her insides glow whenever she saw the upward curl of his lips, knowing that she had gained a sliver of his trust to be privy to such rare expressions. He still looked very much like the old Lucius Malfoy, clothed in his intimidating layers of rich black robes, but there was a glimpse of a different man altogether amidst the folds of arrogance.

"Is something amusing you?" Lucius asked as he cocked one eyebrow at her.

"Sorry?" Hermione said in reflexive confusion as she was pulled out from her meandering thoughts.

"You were smiling," Lucius told her, his own smile having long vanished and replaced by his usual haughty expression.

"Oh. I was just – um – thinking," she said quickly in a vague excuse. Lucius seemed to notice that she was hiding something, but didn't question it except with the slight flickering of his eyes. Hermione quashed the urge to simply tell him what she had on mind and sighed as she observed the dire little park. It occurred to her yet again how strange it was, that she had been paired with Lucius of all people by fate's unpredictable hand, and the very thought of it made her wonder at the bizarreness of the situation. However, her confusion couldn't impede the feeling of secret pride she felt at having dismantled a fraction of his armour. She was sure he would never have smiled like that previous to everything they had been through…

"You look cold. I suggest we return indoors," Lucius said when Hermione shivered as the crisp air finally began getting to her. She nodded in acquiesce as she drew her cloak around her tighter, hugging herself in an effort to keep warm. She looked up, startled, when she felt a gloved hand lightly pull the collar of the garment up above her bare neck, and stared at Lucius as he reached over to cover her up better. There was a moment of heavy silence as he slowly lowered his hand, and when his grey eyes swivelled to catch her gaze, Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm in an involuntary blush as she gave him a tight smile of thanks.

"Thank you," she murmured awkwardly as she briefly glanced up at him to meet his eyes before looking away.

"You are welcome," Lucius returned politely with a small incline of his head before he wordlessly gestured with his cane for her to lead the way. Hermione clutched the edges of her cloak tightly as she began walking forwards, trying to calm the nervous jingling of her senses as errant streams of thought whispered through her mind. She almost ran up the stone steps that led to the front door, eager to be both out of the cold and away from the memories that sprung from standing in the square of Grimmauld Place. Muttering the incantations that melted the wards to let her open the front door, Hermione turned back to check if Lucius was with her, and almost let out a yelp of surprise at seeing him silently waiting only a foot behind her. He mirrored her startled expression for a split second as she made to say something in her flustered state, only to find herself at a loss for words. Instead of some witty remark, she ended up looking at him straight in the eyes and remained rooted to the spot, dumbfounded.

"Perhaps you could try…opening the door?" Lucius suggested lightly after a few long seconds in which Hermione had simply stared at him as though she could solve the enigma of his being by doing so. She felt uncomfortably hot as her cheeks grew flushed again, and she forwent the chance to make a decent excuse as she was too embarrassed to think up anything believable.

Having been jolted into action, Hermione hurriedly opened the door and tried not to think about what had passed in the moment just before. She kept her mouth tightly shut as she passed the threshold, distracted by the sound of Lucius' steady footsteps as he sauntered in after her and closed the door. The narrow hallway was dark except the weak light from the gas lamps mounted along the walls, and Hermione grimaced a little at the gloominess that seeped from the house.

Suppressing a shudder at the lingering darkness that seemed to taunt her with silent complacency, Hermione shook off the eerie feeling of eyes watching her as she reminded herself that there was nothing there. Untying her cloak, she slipped it off her shoulders to hang on one of the few iron hooks by the door, noticing Lucius as he stood pulling off his gloves, finger by finger. Having hung up the garment, Hermione found herself dallying as she saw him occupied in trying to get his thick cloak off, a twisted crease catching on the buttons of his robes beneath. Ignoring her uncertainties over whether it was alright for her to offer her help, Hermione instinctively reached up to take hold of the part of his collar that was hindering him, and went about pulling it free of the button on his inner lapel.

"Miss Granger –" Lucius began as he raised his hands up as if he would take hold of hers to pull them away, but he lowered his arms with a resigned exhale when Hermione glanced up at him in questioning and allowed her to continue. Swallowing back the small quiver of nervousness rising in her throat, Hermione quickly finished straightening his cloak and stepped back when she was done, letting out a long breath she had been holding. Lucius glanced down and unfastened the cloak with dextrous movements of his slim fingers, shrugging the heavy mantle off before hanging it up alongside Hermione's.

"Are you going back to work?" Hermione asked as he turned back to face her, his pale hands smoothing down his robes.

"I have much to do," he drawled lightly in answer, appearing quite unaffected and indifferent to the tension buzzing in the air.

"Do you want anything?" she offered in a sudden urge of generosity, looking at him with a beat of concern.

"I will call the elf when I need something," Lucius replied dismissively as he waited for her to move on, seemingly not wanting to walk past her, as the corridor was too narrow to do so comfortably. Hermione merely nodded at his declining of her offer and tried to shove off the feeling of awkwardness that had riddled its way into her.

"Go amuse yourself, Miss Granger," Lucius told her with a slight curl of his lips as he tipped his head towards her while Hermione gave a small smile back before deciding she would go to her room to rest for a bit. She didn't look back as she ascended the flights of stairs with quick, quiet steps, hearing Lucius follow at a distance. His footsteps faded with the closing of the drawing room door, and Hermione didn't bother stopping until she had reached her room, and thrown herself on her bed with a loud sigh. She gave a strangled shriek of alarm when an unexpected voice spoke.

"I was waiting for you."

Jerking up to look around wildly, Hermione immediately caught sight of the haughty boy leaning against the far wall, his body shimmering a little in pearly translucency as the sunlight caught his form.

"Regulus?"

"I am indeed," Regulus affirmed in a dry tone, looking rather unimpressed by her exclamation. Hermione stared at him with mouth slightly open, various emotions flashing through her confusingly as she observed the arrogant young man.

"How – how did you – no, why didn't you come sooner?" Hermione demanded in a voice that couldn't quite hide her hurt at his deliberate absence and late arrival.

"I had my reasons," Regulus replied aloofly as he glanced down at his deadly pale hands.

"I was worried that you wouldn't come back," Hermione confessed in a somewhat miserable tone as she relaxed again and gazed at the dark-haired boy curiously.

"Is that so?" Regulus said with a shrug of indifference, making Hermione's melancholy to be replaced by a spark of irritation at his seeming petulance.

"Yes, it is," she replied a little snappishly, feeling a budding dislike at the annoyingly Slytherin memory.

"You don't seem it," Regulus pointed out sullenly while Hermione tried to refrain from rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"Well, how do you want me to prove it?" she said in bad humour while Regulus folded his ghostly arms across his chest in apparent apathy.

"You like Malfoy."

Hermione blinked several times at the abrupt statement, the words taking some time to pervade her numbed brain as she stared at Regulus in dumbfounded surprise.

"W-what?"

"You heard me."

"Me? Like Malfoy?" Hermione repeated as she frowned at the very idea.

"The way you look at him… It is most curious," Regulus remarked with narrowed eyes, tossing the longer strands of black hair out of his line of vision.

"What? I don't look at him like – wait, were you watching us?" Hermione demanded sharply, speaking in a higher pitch than intended as her pulse quickened with anxiety.

"Hardly," Regulus brushed off with a vexingly snooty look. "I just happened to be passing by –"

"That's impossible! We would've seen you!" Hermione exclaimed in a clamouring of disbelief and panic. Regulus' words had disturbed her conscience more than she would ever admit.

"You were too busy looking at Malfoy," Regulus told her with a smirk, enraging Hermione further as she leapt off the bed to march over to him, stopping only when she was standing a foot away from him. Despite her open glaring, she noticed how transparent he looked with the lightly patterned wallpaper visible through his robed form. A slight murmur of pity rippled through her, but Hermione felt unwilling to give up her pride and admit that she regretted welcoming Regulus a second time with unintentional hostility. Continuing to glower at him, Hermione saw how young and unblemished he looked, his face as pure as light and untouched by the blackened years. She let the disapproving expression drop when she was overcome by a wave of sympathy as she remembered what this lonely boy had been through…

"Stop pitying me," Regulus ordered her coldly, his dark eyes glimmering with tightly controlled anger as Hermione couldn't stop herself from gazing at him with sadness.

"I can't help it," she said with a shrug before she turned away to go back to the bed, sitting down on the rumpled sheets once more. "You're just so pitiable," she continued as she glanced up at him, catching the incensed look that flashed across his face before he hid it behind a mask of surly indifference.

"I didn't come back to gain your pity," he said with a bitter bite in his voice, shooting a resentful glance at her before he looked away towards the bright window.

"Then why did you come back?" Hermione prompted in a softened tone as she sat back with a sigh, mentally chastising herself for having given way to her own emotions and disregarded the poor boy before her so cruelly. It was no wonder he appeared to resent her. She watched him avidly as he remained silent for several long moments, noticing how his mouth tightened in a thin line as a frown drew his brows together, showing his inner battle of pride against wretchedness. Hermione inwardly commanded herself to be patient as she waited for him to reach some kind of answer.

"I wanted to talk," Regulus admitted at last, looking deeply regretful of the fact that he had had to swallow his pride.

"Hmm… Lucius was right, after all," Hermione mused aloud while Regulus raised one of his eyebrows. "He said you'd give into your loneliness and return."

"He doesn't know anything about me," Regulus retorted in a slight sneer, evidently offended at being told a correct analysis of his intentions.

"Maybe," Hermione replied noncommittally with a light shrug. "I'm just saying that that's what he said."

"And you believe everything he says?" Regulus asked with a slight, disdainful curl of his upper lip. Hermione looked up at him sharply, his words reminding her all too much of the night when she and Ron had argued so badly and Ron had made some horrible accusations.

"That's none of your business," she informed him curtly, causing him to give her a mirthless smile.

"Do you trust Malfoy?" Regulus asked baldly while Hermione hesitated a moment to figure out a truthful answer.

"To some extent," she admitted coolly, trying not to be too troubled by the sour twist of lips on Regulus that formed a bitter smile.

"I used to think he was so brilliant," he confessed in a mutter, eyes growing slightly glassy with what looked like bitter tears. "I used to think all of them were the greatest people ever to walk this earth. I wanted to be just like them."

"You must be angry," Hermione murmured quietly in sympathy, feeling her heart tremor in empathic anguish as Regulus looked up at her, his features twisted in the agony that was slowly seeping out of him.

"Angry? You have no idea…" he muttered bitterly as he drew his dark gaze away from her to look unseeingly out the window. "My entire life was a lie… I lost everything I had because of the Dark Lord's cause. I never got to speak to my brother again and it made me hate the parents that I knew I loved… Yes, I am angry."

Hermione sat in silence, not knowing what to say that could offer any solace to him. It pained her greatly to see him suffering, even if he was supposedly only a memory. She could vaguely imagine the level of hurt that he had to be going through as he recalled his immeasurable losses. Watching him struggle to keep control of the emotions that raged beneath the surface, Hermione was suddenly reminded of Lucius, whose feelings about his life were remarkably similar to that of Regulus. Looking at the latter, she could only think of how much she had been wishing to save Lucius from his constant pain. Now, her desire to help had shifted onto Regulus, who was fighting to keep the silvery tears from escaping down his cheeks.

"I won't judge you," she reassured him softly as he looked up at her with eyes that blazed with a terrible sadness. At her words, she saw one watery pearl slip from his left eye and leave a shining trail down his pale face. Unable to simply sit there and watch him suffer in silence, Hermione slipped off the bed to hurry over to him, pausing directly before him when she remembered that she wouldn't be able to feel him, as he was nothing but a memory. She couldn't contain a gasp of surprise when Regulus lifted one lily-white hand to touch hers, taken aback at the feathery light tingle that she felt along the fingers he brushed.

"You can touch me?" she whispered in incredulity as she looked up to catch his eyes.

"I am still weak," he admitted with a hint of a smile. "But yes, I can make you feel my touch."

"But I thought you were only a memory?" Hermione said in bewilderment, feeling a flicker of panic as the suspicions of him being a Horcrux returned to her mind.

"I am," Regulus confirmed tonelessly.

"Then how…?"

"It seems Malfoy didn't tell you about blood poisoning," Regulus commented with a trace of satisfaction as he regained control over his emotions.

"He did, but he only said that the taken blood can give life to objects."

"It also forms a bond between the victim and the receiver, through which living strength can be transferred," Regulus explained with a faint glimmer of smugness.

"Wait, so you're gaining strength from Lucius?" Hermione asked with eyes wide in shock, feeling both amazed and outraged at the thought of life being stolen without consent.

"You could say so," Regulus agreed with a small shrug while Hermione frowned as her conscience began to kick up a commotion in her head.

"I need to tell Lucius you're here," she muttered firmly as she turned to open the door, intent on letting him know everything.

"No!" Regulus said swiftly, instinctively grabbing her wrist as she stopped in her tracks to look at him, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rise as she felt his ghostly fingers leave cold trails across her skin.

"If you tell him, I won't come back," he threatened in a hushed voice, fixing her with an intense gaze. Hermione stared at him in incomprehension for a moment, unable to grasp why he didn't wish to be revealed a second time to Lucius.

"I could help you, but I won't help him," Regulus continued in a low tone as he held her captive with his phantom fingers and fierce determination. "I am your secret, not his."

"But he needs to know," Hermione reasoned with a worried look, steadily disliking the idea of having to keep something so important away from Lucius. It would be too unreasonable, let alone ungrateful…

"No. Leave him in the dark. I cannot help you otherwise."

Hermione looked at Regulus imploringly, but she could see that all the begging in the world would not budge the stubborn youth's decision. There could only be one choice if she wished to have Regulus' aid, but she couldn't understand why he might be so upset over Lucius knowing his continued existence.

"I won't tell him, if you don't want me to," she told him at last in reluctant defeat, "but at least explain why he can't know."

"He doesn't deserve to know," Regulus said dourly, to which, Hermione gave an exasperated sigh.

"Lucius doesn't deserve to suffer any more than you," she told him firmly while Regulus regarded her with cool surprise. "He might not be a nice person, but he's not horrible either. I don't think things have been easy for him either."

"You do like him, don't you?" Regulus remarked with a cold smile, while Hermione had to stop herself from stamping her foot in annoyance.

"It's not a matter of liking or not liking! Yes, I respect him for everything he has done for me, but that is all there is to it!"

"If you say so," Regulus said dismissively, clearly unbelieving of her indignant fervour.

"Well, what else would there be? Sure you don't think he'd be anything more than – than what he is to me now?" Hermione asked incredulously, unable to believe that Regulus would actually be thinking that about her and Lucius.

"Time will tell," Regulus conceded with a careless shrug while Hermione tried not to grow aggravated by his snide teasing. She glowered at him for a moment, irked by the fact that he seemed to know how irritating he was being and was doing nothing to placate her ire. Hermione continued to silently fume by the door, but immediately forgot her crossness when she saw him slowly starting to fade away.

"I must go," Regulus said in explanation as he became fainter and fainter, causing Hermione to reach towards him in the frantic wish to keep him with her.

"Will you come back?" she asked anxiously as she tried to grab his hands, only to have her fingers pass through air.

"Keep my secret," he said in a waning voice as he melted into nothingness, leaving Hermione staring at the bedroom wall in perplexity. She remained fixed to the spot for a long moment, knowing that he wouldn't be coming back for a while, although it didn't stop her from wishing it. Eventually, she stepped away from the wall with a loud sigh, clutching onto the hope of a new friendship to counter the strange loneliness she felt at his deserting of her. Her misery doubled when she remembered that she had to keep it all a secret from Lucius, which made her feel uneasy. Her conscience bothered her greatly, letting her know that it was neither good nor right to keep such vital things away from him, and she felt like she was betraying him, even if he wasn't aware of it.

With a heavy heart, Hermione left the room in search of Lucius.

 

Lucius was pacing the floor of the drawing room, one hand running over his tied-back hair while the other held a piece of parchment that looked like it had been read many times over. Hermione stood in the doorway with uncertainty, watching him brood as she wondered what the cause of his botheration might be. He looked up when he turned about to stride back and stopped in his tracks when he saw her. Hermione was surprised to see him looking unusually pale and tired, having seen him healthy less than an hour ago. She was mortified to think that it had to be due to Regulus drawing strength out of him, and struggled to keep down the impulse to simply spill her newest secret.

"You look ill," Lucius remarked flatly while Hermione silently returned the observation in her head.

"I'm fine," she said instead, walking absent-mindedly over to the desk to stare out the window, her mind caught in conflict as she wondered if Regulus really had a way of telling if she informed Lucius about him. On second thoughts however, she realised that it would be breaking the tentative trust Regulus had placed on her, and by breaking her promise to guard his secret, she would effectively be destroying her second chance at gaining his help. Turning away from the window with a flare of frustration, Hermione noticed that Lucius was watching her with eyes narrowed in scrutiny, and hurriedly sought to smooth out her features.

"Is something the matter?" he asked in cool concern, seemingly not deceived by the look of contentedness that Hermione pressed herself into wearing.

"No, nothing at all," she said as truthfully as she could, aware that Lucius could detect a lie from a mile off. Seeing that he was far from believing her, Hermione quickly changed the subject, her curiosity genuine as she nodded towards the letter in his hand.

"Is it from Draco?"

"Indeed," Lucius drawled as he turned his attention back to the letter in his hand and glanced over it with a hardened expression.

"Is everything alright?" she asked as she walked over to him to stand at his side and risk a cautious peek at the short piece of parchment.

"He wishes us a happy new year," Lucius replied laconically as his pale eyes flickered over the few lines written by his son. "And hopes this business with the curse will be soon concluded so I may come home quickly."

"Did you write back to him yet?" Hermione questioned as she stood on slight tiptoe to peer over his arm and get a glimpse of the letter that he was holding a little too high to be observed from her standing point.

"I made a reply," Lucius answered stiffly as this time, he didn't offer her the letter to read, but folded it up and brushed aside his robes to slip it into the pocket of his black slacks.

"Well, that's a start," Hermione reasoned in approval. "Harry said Draco's looking much better than before."

"Potter sees him?" Lucius said with a flicker of surprise.

"Only at the Ministry. Apparently, Kingsley's very impressed with Draco and is considering suggesting a promotion to be given, but that's a secret, so don't tell him."

"Sharing confidential information, Miss Granger? Surely that is somewhere within the boundaries of treason?" Lucius teased her with a brief smirk, unknowing of the real secret she was actually keeping from him.

"Well, I just thought that it wouldn't matter too much to tell you, seeing as you're in no position to whip up some bribes and threats," Hermione said with a small shrug as she strolled over to the couch.

"Are you suggesting I resort to such base things?" Lucius said in feigned alarm while Hermione couldn't help smiling.

"Oh, just speculating, Mr Malfoy. Although I'm sure someone as good as yourself wouldn't even consider such a wicked line of thought," Hermione jested breezily as she plopped herself down on the sofa and smoothed out the creases in her robes.

"Indeed, I would never dream of it," Lucius murmured from just behind her, making Hermione jerk at little in her seat. She twisted around to see him leaning against the back of the couch, the short-lived amusement fading from his eyes as his mind fell on graver matters.

"It was a heavy price to pay," he remarked pensively as he gazed into the fireplace that kindled a few weak flames.

"What was?" Hermione asked in a hushed voice, looking up at him expectantly.

"To keep my hands free of blood. I had to bribe and threaten for all I was worth to satisfy the Dark Lord. I am sorry to say it became something of a habit," Lucius explained as he dropped his gaze down to meet hers.

"There's always time for change," Hermione said consolingly as she offered him a reassuring smile. "It'll be a new year before long, and you can let the past go and have a fresh start."

"An interesting hypothesis, assuredly, but looking from the scope of reality, I am afraid the past cannot be forgotten so quickly," Lucius drawled in natural condescension.

"At least you could make a start. I know it's a long process, but it's got to begin somewhere," Hermione reasoned as she picked up the book she had abandoned earlier in the day and casually perused it until she reached the right page.

"Perhaps," Lucius conceded a touch indifferently, pulling out his wand to aim it at the fire and silently command the flames to flare from the orange embers.

 

Night fell swift and unnoticed over the house, the sun having sunk by the time the clocks had struck six. Both Lucius and Hermione had grown absorbed in their own work over the hours, and being similarly unwilling to let their attentions wander, hadn't even stopped to take dinner. In truth, Hermione didn't even feel hungry, as the highly interesting theorem made by Alphard the Diffident on the reasons why witches shouldn't use the Indipicus spell during pregnancy had made her forget her decreasing appetite. Managing to tear her eyes away from the book after one delightfully long chapter, she saw that time had truly flown by, and it was eleven at night already. Sitting up straight in surprise, Hermione thought over what Harry had said in the letter he had sent the day before, and wandered what he, the Weasleys and the rest of the Order were doing now.

With a wistful smile, she thought of how they were probably playing some kind of game or maybe Mr Weasley would be spinning some long forgotten tale of an incident that had happened back in his school days. Hermione was far from resenting them for supposedly deserting her, as she didn't think she would be much company anyway, but it didn't stop her from wishing to be in the warm glow of the family celebration. Her thoughts turned to her parents, who had also been keeping up a regular correspondence with her, and she felt guilt spike her as she wondered what a terrible daughter she had been in the past few months.

Lost in the cloud of nostalgia and regret, Hermione jumped in her seat at the sudden sound of Lucius' voice as he called Kreacher. There was a loud crack as the wizened house-elf appeared directly by his side, and Hermione turned to see him sweep a low, reverent bow to Lucius in greeting.

"Master Malfoy called Kreacher?" the elf croaked as he raised his dull, pale orbs to look up at the wizard.

"Fetch me the whisky and go ask Miss Granger if she wants anything," Lucius ordered him smartly, receiving another deferential bow in undeserved worship.

"How are you, Kreacher?" Hermione asked sincerely as the elf tottered around the couch to stand before her.

"Kreacher's bones are aching from working for Master Harry's friends. Mistress Weasley makes Kreacher do all the cleaning in hers horrible little house and her nasty little brats always play pranks on poor old Kreacher," the elf vented in a rasping voice as he shook a little, gnarled fist in the air.

"But I thought Harry and Ron told the rest of them that you were to be treated nicely?" Hermione asked with a frown of concern, upset at the idea of the elf being pushed about.

"Master Harry is good to Kreacher, but his freckled friend is not so kind," Kreacher muttered with a shake of his bulbous head. "Master Harry's freckled friend is always in a bad mood and sometimes even tries to kick Kreacher!"

"Oh no! That's – that's horrible," Hermione said with a slight gasp, knowing that she was emphasising the dramatics, but troubled nonetheless by the thought of Ron having becoming terrible enough to abuse the house-elf. That, in itself, told her something was obviously wrong.

"But Master Harry's friend and Master Malfoy are kind to Kreacher, and Kreacher likes returning to the noble house of his dear Mistress," the elf said with a few nods of satisfaction. "What would Master Harry's friend like to eat and drink?"

"I'm actually not that hungry, Kreacher," Hermione told him kindly. "Why don't you go and get the whisky for – uh – Master Malfoy before he gets cross?"

"Which will be very soon," Lucius drawled from over where he sat, causing Hermione to smirk a little. Kreacher gave a small, jerk of a bow before he left with another crack that made her twitch in surprise. Standing up to stretch and let out a yawn, Hermione left her book to wander over to him, astounded to see him able to sit so silently in utterly focused study.

"I don't know how you can sit so still," Hermione remarked with a shake of her head. "You're even better than me!"

Lucius set a bookmark carefully in the book he was reading before he closed it, turning his head to look up at her with a hint of mischief in his faint smile.

"You may be the smartest witch of your age, Miss Granger, but they did not call me the brightest wizard of my age for nothing."

"Well, you can't have had much competition," Hermione joked in mock indifference as she watched him rise out of his chair to flex his sleeping muscles.

"No, I suppose not," Lucius agreed nonchalantly before he glanced at her with a cold smile. "I would hardly call Rodolphus Lestrange much of a rival, or Bellatrix, for that matter. I am certain they were nothing more than common fools."

"You went to school with them?" Hermione asked in surprise, before she realised that she already knew the answer to that question.

"Where else?" Lucius replied with a bitter smile as he stared hard out the window, the lights from the houses across the street glittering in his eyes.

"That's…strange," Hermione said slowly as she unsuccessfully tried to imagine what Lucius and the other Death Eaters had been like at school or even as children. She could only picture Lucius as a child because she had seen a photograph of his younger self, but Hermione doubted she would have been able to if she hadn't seen it.

"They were not always mad," Lucius told her in a thoughtful drawl. "The Dark Lord changed many things in us."

"Well, tonight's the night to change for the better," Hermione said as she looked out the window into the dark night. She heard Kreacher noisily Apparate into the room and turned to see him toddle forwards bearing a newly-opened bottle of Ogden's finest and two glass tumblers. He deposited them on the desk dutifully before he gave them both a final bow, ready to leave.

"Happy New Year, Kreacher," Hermione told him with a warm smile, causing Lucius to look at her with mild disbelief while the elf gave a fuller bow to her.

"Kreacher thanks Master Harry's a friend and wishes her the same," he croaked with what sounded like a slight sniffle before Disapparating with a loud snap.

"Your obsession with treating everything equally fascinates me," Lucius admitted as he went about filling the tumblers with a healthy measure of amber liquid.

"It's not that abnormal," Hermione said a little defensively. "Even Muggles know to treat things equally and with respect."

"That may be so, but things are different in the wizarding world," Lucius countered in even tones, his articulate speech sounding ever so slightly tense.

"Wizarding world…" Hermione repeated with a sigh of realisation. "That's very dominant of males to term it like that."

"We are the pillars of our civilisation. You will find wizards are the ones who made history, not witches," Lucius said haughtily as he offered Hermione a glass.

"No, wizards are the ones who were selfish enough to promote whatever glories they achieved without taking into consideration those who helped them achieve it," Hermione corrected firmly as she took the proffered glass and examined the enchanting golden light that sparkled where the lamplight touched the whisky.

"Just because witches aren't always so thoughtless and egotistical, it doesn't mean we're any worse than wizards. In fact, I'd say the majority of witches are probably better than wizards, both in magic and in heart."

"That is a rather bold statement, is it not?" Lucius argued lightly before he took a sip of his drink and closed his eyes momentarily to relish the taste.

"Well, the truth is rather bold," Hermione reasoned as she copied him. "And you've got to admit, there's nothing quite as obvious as the male ego. I think almost every act of both evil and heroism, is done with a considerable concern for ego."

"'Tis a little rash, coming from the great Harry Potter's friend," Lucius remarked with a slight smirk while Hermione frowned.

"Harry's not perfect; he's far from being that," she clarified firmly. "But that's what makes him so great."

"Your fierce loyalty is rather admirable, Miss Granger, but I would advise you not to think of Potter as anything more than the average boy. Great wizards are those who know of their imperfections and strive to rid themselves of such blemishes," Lucius said wisely as he emptied his glass and poured some more for himself.

"I hope you're not diving for compliments?" Hermione muttered with a rueful smile while Lucius glanced at her with what seemed to be genuine surprise.

"Compliments? Hardly," he said dismissively as he joined her in gazing out the long window. "I do not think I would even make it into the top hundred of the greatest wizards who ever lived."

"It's good to know you can be modest," Hermione said with a laugh, secretly admitting to herself that she preferred it when he kept to his arrogance, which suited him much better.

"I can be many things," Lucius pointed out while Hermione nodded in agreement. If there was anyone who could play any act so convincingly, it was Lucius. A peaceful silence settled over them as they enjoyed the whisky that burned down their throats and warmed their blood, both minds wandering off in opposite directions. Hermione's thoughts returned back to mulling over what was happening at the Burrow right now, and she smiled as she imagined George telling jokes and Charlie teasing Percy.

Minutes passed as she let herself picture all the warming scenes that would probably be occurring at the cosy, ramshackle house of the Weasleys, and she barely noticed when Lucius finished his second glass and moved to make it a third. Seeing him from the corner of her eye, she wondered what he was thinking and what he was feeling. He was probably missing his own family and regretting the fact that he was stuck elsewhere, with her for his only company. Hermione could see why he might become short-tempered at times; life was dull and monotonous at Grimmauld Place and she doubted a new year would make much difference…

A colourful bouquet of fireworks suddenly exploded in the sky after a whistling ascent, and Hermione couldn't help smiling as they sparkled over the dark rooftops. Somewhere in a back garden, the Muggle neighbours were probably celebrating in good cheer.

"To a new year," Lucius murmured quietly as he held up his glass towards the window to offer a toast. Hermione raised her own and repeated the words, before she brought it to her lips and took another gulp.

"A year of fresh beginnings," she added as a glittering Catherine wheel whirled across the night sky in a splash of wild colours.

"Indeed," Lucius agreed as they watched flaming tails of dazzling light streak across the dark expanse outside. All else was forgotten as they both watched the bright display and let silence lapse around them again. Hermione even forgot to think as she enjoyed the view, feeling a certain peace fall over her as she stood in content stillness with Lucius. She felt everything that couldn't be defined by words in that moment, and feeling a curious hunch that she wasn't the only one experiencing the strange change in the atmosphere, she looked over at Lucius. He was already gazing at her with an unfathomable expression written across his face, his features partly shadowed by the darkness from outside that only lighted up when fireworks arched across the sky.

"This is change," he murmured quietly, reaching over to her with one hand to gently brush his fingers against hers. Hermione tensed instinctively, tightening her fingers and trapping his in an impulsive hold as she stared at him with speechless astonishment.

"This is my secret," he said elusively as he allowed her to clench his fingers in her fist, looking at her with a slight smile that made him look strangely familiar.

Hermione stared at him in amazed confusion as another shower of fireworks burst overhead.

 

42\. Empty Promises

Hermione stared up at Lucius as he gazed back with a slight smile lifting the corners of his lips, the fireworks continuing to erupt in the sky before them. It took her another long moment to realise she was still clutching his fingers and with slow, deliberate movements, she uncurled her own fingers to release his hand.

"Your secret?" she repeated blankly, completely thrown by his behaviour.

"One day, you will forget all that you have witnessed here, Miss Granger," Lucius told her smoothly while Hermione grew more bewildered at his words.

"One day, when all of this is gone," he gestured to the room, "you will not remember seeing me revert into the person I should have been a long time ago. It will be a secret for only myself to bear."

"Revert? Secrets? What do you mean?"

"I can feel something changing, but you need not worry. You will forget this all soon enough."

"But how can I forget?" Hermione asked with a frown, perplexed by what he might be thinking of, making her 'forget' things.

"Oh, you need not look at me like that, Miss Granger. I assure you, I will not lay a wand on you. Your lapse of memory will most likely be the work of nature and its natural process of degeneration."

"But what makes you think I might forget this moment? Forget you?"

Lucius paused in his serene mood to frown a little at her words. Hermione could see that whatever he had expected, it hadn't been to be remembered or cherished by her. She watched his features darken in hard thoughtfulness and wondered what might be going through his intricate mind. Eventually, Lucius looked over at her with his jaw set in a resolute expression as he fixed her with a steady gaze.

"There will come a time when your memories of me will wish to be released and forgotten. It is important for you to let go of the past if you want to progress into the future."

"Wait, why are you talking of this? What's going on? Is everything alright?" Hermione asked a little frantically, having been frightened by his sudden talk of forgetting and leaving everything behind. His words had fully awakened the part of her that was unwilling to let go of Lucius, ever. She didn't know what he might know of what was to come, but she didn't like the way he was firmly yet gently reminding her to keep her distance just when she had thought that they had reached a new level of trust.

"What's going on, Lucius?" she said in a whisper as she reached towards him with both hands to take hold of his arms. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"I cannot explain in this moment," he replied as he gazed down at her with his restless, grey eyes. "My – my magic is shifting…"

"Your magic?" Hermione exclaimed in fright as she peered up at him worriedly. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

"Many years ago, the Dark Lord tied us to him by having us recite a certain Binding spell. The Dark Mark was a physical manifestation of this enchantment and it was done in his effort to guarantee him our complete loyalty until our deaths. I may have been rid of the Mark, but this spell has taken far longer to fade."

"You mean you're still bound to Voldemort even though he's dead?" Hermione asked quickly and quietly, never letting go of his forearms as she felt overcome with concern.

"It was a measure of precaution he placed upon us for fear of any of his followers leaving his service," Lucius answered in a low voice as he stared past her head and out the window.

"But there were those who left, weren't there? Professor Snape, Regulus…" Hermione prompted, feeling increasingly jittery at the thought of all Death Eaters still being bound to a dead master.

"Indeed. Those who were strong enough…" Lucius tailed off as he drew his gaze back to her and lightly prised his arms away from her tightening grip.

"You look pale. Maybe you should go lie down," Hermione said as she let go of him to stand on tiptoe and press a doctoral hand to his cold cheek.

"It is only the Binding spell taking its toll," Lucius told her calmly as he raised his own hand to gently remove hers from his face.

"But your skin is all cold! And what do you mean, 'toll'?" Hermione asked anxiously, not realising that her voice was climbing higher in pitch.

"Hush… Let me have some quietude," Lucius said as he closed his eyes briefly and stood completely still, leaving Hermione to stare at him in open-mouthed confusion. Despite her burning nervousness and ultimate intrigue, she remained silent and motionless, trying to feel that which he was feeling. Time seemed to freeze around them as silence fell, an overpowering sense of peace flowing over them. Hermione focused entirely on Lucius, lost in her wonderment at what was quietly happening to him.

There was a slight murmur of warm air that rippled from Lucius as he exhaled slowly, startling Hermione as she watched him fretfully. She could see that whatever he was experiencing, was not painful, for he wore an expression of unnatural bliss as the strange heat continued to flow out of him, its intensity increasing before it stopped altogether. Lucius opened his eyes then, immediately catching Hermione's gaze as his chest noticeably rose up and down in steady breaths.

"It is over," he said with a satisfied smile, his genuine contentment slowly relieving the tight knot of worry in Hermione's stomach.

"Is that – is that it?" she asked in small voice, standing only a foot away from him as she regarded his unusually peaceful features.

"Yes," Lucius breathed out as he tilted his head back slightly to close his eyes and savour the feeling.

"How long has it been?" Hermione asked quietly as she unwittingly inched closer again to look up at him.

"Twenty-six years. Twenty-six years since I was a free man with nothing to hold me back."

"Oh, I never knew!" Hermione said in a mixture of regretful anguish and joy as she grabbed hold of one his hands and squeezed. "I didn't know that you had been bound into service…"

"You do not know many things, Miss Granger," Lucius reasoned not unkindly as he opened his eyes once again and gazed down at her. "But perhaps one day, you will learn."

"Why? Why did this – this breaking of the spell happen now?" Hermione said as she let go of his hand and felt a strange lightness in the air.

"I cannot be entirely sure, but I might chance a guess at the current conditions of our situation. In times such as this, we can turn to books to provide us a suitable answer," Lucius drawled nonchalantly as his pale eyes flickered over the room as though seeing it for the first time.

"Was it much different, living while being bound by that spell?" Hermione asked curiously, having noticed the way he was glancing around.

"Only that it was somewhat akin to being on a very, very long leash," Lucius answered as he sighted what he obviously wanted and strode over to the small bookcase standing against the far wall.

"Nothing has essentially changed in my being, but my existence feels somehow…lighter," Lucius told her from over his shoulder as he swiftly bent down to pull out a thick book from one of the lower shelves.

"Are you going back to work already? It's past midnight, you know," Hermione said disapprovingly while Lucius slowly ambled towards her, his eyes trained on the pages of the open book he held in his hands.

"You should go to bed," Lucius replied as he continued to read avidly, causing Hermione's curiosity to get the better of her. Slinking up to his side to see what was so fascinating, she caught sight of the title of the book printed on the top margins of the pages.

"The Finer Arts?" she read out loud while Lucius paused in his reading to glance sideways at her.

"Also known as the Dark Arts. This was written in an era when that particular branch of magic was only thought of as more advanced, if a little dangerous," Lucius explained without missing a beat.

"A little dangerous," Hermione scoffed quietly. "That might be a gross understatement."

"I may have just experienced a phenomenal unbinding of enchantments, but that does not mean you can continue to distract me from my work, Miss Granger," Lucius told her in smooth chiding. "It is rather late for you to be up, is it not?"

"Yes sir," Hermione sighed with a shake of her head as she realised that going to bed did sound like a good plan.

"Sleep well," he murmured a little absent-mindedly as he took his book over to sit down at the desk. Hermione smiled at the sight of him getting caught up in reading, glad to know that at least there was someone else in the world who was prone to falling prey to the written word. Leaving the room with her head crammed full of half-solved mysteries and revelations in the past hour, she made her way upstairs to her bedroom with barely a shiver at the gloominess seeping from the walls of the house.

Hermione's head was swarmed by ideas and speculations as she undressed and pulled on her nightie, slipping beneath the cold bed sheets with a wide yawn. She was still a little surprised at how causally and calmly Lucius had undergone his final and ultimate release from Voldemort's power, and couldn't believe how he managed to continue on with life as if nothing had happened at all. She actually thought the occasion to be worth celebrating, but maybe they could do that tomorrow…

 

Jerking bolt upright in bed as though she had been doused in a bucket of icy water, Hermione breathlessly sat up in alarm, eyes flickering wildly in the relentless darkness. Shivering with unnatural cold, she reached out with her hand to search for the bedside table, her fingers scrabbling to find the comforting stick of wood that she knew was there somewhere.

"Lumos!"

White light immediately glowed from the end of the wandtip as she shakily held her wand out before her, feeling the blood pounding through her veins as she glanced around her shadowed room in buzzing apprehension. The adrenalin continued to pulse vigorously in her system, making it hard for her to calm herself as she scrutinised the silhouetted chamber.

Something had been watching her. She was sure of it. Even in her usual twist of tormenting dreams, she had felt a cold hand lightly touch her cheek and had unconsciously felt ghostly eyes to be looking at her intently. Despite the calming illumination of the wandlight, she felt distinctly uneasy as the long shadows morosely crept around the corners of the bedroom.

"You are so fearful…"

Hermione gave a high-pitched shriek of fright as the low voice murmured from the darkness, setting her fragile nerves alight with panic again.

"Who are you?" she demanded frantically as she moved her wand from side to side, trying to throw light on the dimmer edges of the room.

"You know who I am," the voice said, drifting from nearby the wall, making Hermione immediately point her wand at the area and shed light on the familiar figure of Regulus.

"Regulus!" she sighed in breathless relief. "You gave me such a fright!"

"Undoubtedly," the black-haired boy drawled as he leaned against the wall, looking very much in the flesh as the shadows lapped around his lean form.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked in a more subdued tone, having gained a sliver of comfort at knowing there was nothing to fear.

"I came to see you," Regulus replied simply with a small shrug.

"But it's still night time, isn't it?" Hermione said as she glanced towards the drawn curtains, trying to determine what time it was.

"The night is a kinder host to me than the day," he said nonchalantly while Hermione slowly relaxed into sitting back against the headboard of her bed.

"You're looking quite…real," she admitted with a slight blush, feeling her words to have come out somewhat awkward and blunt.

A slight smile twisted Regulus' lips as he spoke. "I feel quite real. Your Malfoy is made of surprisingly strong stuff."

"He's not mine," Hermione said a little irritably before she realised what he was saying and felt a spark of indignant alarm. "Have you been stealing his blood?"

"Borrowing. Only borrowing what is there for the taking."

"How is it there for the taking? The only one who can rightfully use that energy is Lucius, since it is his own blood," Hermione corrected sternly, frowning as she thought of what damage Regulus' liberal thievery was having on the unwitting Lucius.

"I will need to use his blood if you wish to have my help," Regulus reasoned coolly as he remained half-hidden in the shades.

"It's unfair on him. I – I don't know if I can do that to him," Hermione confessed in a quiet tone, feeling burdened with guilt at what the dark-haired boy was proposing.

"You won't be doing anything," Regulus pointed out calmly. "All I need is a little of his blood every now and then to keep me in semi-corporeal form. Malfoy won't be dying anytime soon, unfortunately."

"He's only just found his real freedom," Hermione said in a mournful, little voice. "That spell which was binding him to Voldemort only broke tonight."

"The Binding enchantment?" Regulus asked abruptly, a hint of alarm fragmenting his usually smooth tone.

"Yes. You must have had the same, to be a Death Eater."

"We all had one."

"Did yours break as well?" Hermione asked inquisitively as her fingers absent-mindedly played with the edge of the bedcovers.

"I died." Regulus reminded her flatly.

"Oh, of course. Sorry. My mind's being a bit slow," she apologised with a flush of embarrassment, feeling immensely foolish for having forgotten that vital detail of her companion's existence. Regulus gave a small nod in acceptance of her apology, his pallid face shuttered with darkness as he made no move to come towards her.

"It is curious how Malfoy's spell has ended now," he mused eventually while Hermione mulled over the same thing, perplexed at why Lucius had suddenly been released. Could it be because of a new year? Or maybe even something either of them had said?

"I think he was trying to find out why it broke when it did from one of the book downstairs," Hermione said pensively as she drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, pulling the covers up simultaneously to keep warm.

"He didn't get very far," Regulus told her in his dry tone. "He went to bed shortly after you did."

"How do you watch us? And where's the diary?" Hermione asked with a frown forming as she regarded the visitor and his many mysteries.

"I have my ways, and the diary is…safe," Regulus answered simply, his expression remaining blank, but his haughty air making Hermione think that he was hiding a lot from her.

"You must've been very clever to do what you've done," she said sincerely, her admiration genuine, but her words timely put so that she might stir him into divulging all the intriguing secrets he surely harboured.

"I was."

"And brave."

"Bravery is a false term only Gryffindors would ever think to use," Regulus muttered scornfully as he leisurely stepped sideways to sit down on Hermione's old school trunk.

"Don't tell me you're still stuck on House rivalries," she said with a disbelieving shake of her head before noticing the muscle in Regulus' jaw clenching angrily.

"I was still at school," he murmured in a low voice, his dark eyes burning with a strange, black fire. Hermione felt a frisson of shock shoot through her as she realised what he was saying. She hadn't thought about it before, but it now dawned on her that not only had Regulus carried out a secret mission on his own, he had done it all when he was still a Hogwarts student. Somehow, her own experiences with war suddenly seemed trivial compared to what he had to have been through…

"It was June. I would have been graduating in a month. My parents never knew what happened."

Hermione stared at him in sadness and horror as she listened, feeling a torrent of pity wash over her as she saw the hard-taught grief etching his youthful face. It had been easy to condemn the Death Eaters as evil and inhuman, but seeing Regulus sitting wilted before her in his anguish proved to Hermione that she couldn't judge anyone for anything. Even Lucius, whom she had begun to see as something more than an ex-Death Eater and Machiavellian conniver, hadn't stirred up this much compassion in her before. Perhaps it was because Regulus was younger than her and still a schoolboy when he joined, but either way, Hermione found it easier and more painful to imagine what he had been through.

"I hated the Dark Lord. I hated his followers. They were all nothing but liars and hypocrites," Regulus said in a harsh whisper as he raised a hand to hurriedly brush across his eyes to presumably wipe away tears. "I wanted the whole lot of them to rot in hell forever!"

"Why did you join them?" Hermione asked softly, her own heart hurting at seeing him slump against the wall in defeated anguish.

"I thought I was doing the right thing. My family all thought it too. The Dark Lord used all the things we had been longing for to trick us into believing him to be right. Cousin Bella used to talk to me about it, and after Sirius left, I wanted to do something to make my mother happy again," Regulus murmured quietly as his pale hands tensed like white spiders against the black trunk, the tendons forming angry ridges.

"Was your mother happy when you joined?" Hermione queried with genuine concern, heartbroken at the idea of a child doing something so terrible to gain his family's love and approval.

"She was proud of it, but not of me," Regulus said indifferently. "My mother never loved me particularly. Sirius was her favourite."

"But your father…?"

"My father's only interest was genealogy and money. He didn't have time to spare for us."

"Did – uh – Bellatrix help you join?"

"She was only half of it. I was tired of always being the 'other son' and having to sit through three-hour recitals of my mother wailing about her darling Sirius and what a terrible Black he was. I heard Snape and Avery talking about Death Eaters and how they were going to join, and I decided it was time for change."

"You knew Professor Snape?" Hermione asked in surprise while Regulus looked at her with one cocked eyebrow.

"Professor? I don't know, but I did know a Severus Snape."

"I didn't realise you were in his time," Hermione breathed in astonishment as she did some quick mental maths in her head.

"I was a year below him."

"Did you know Lucius too?"

"Unfortunately. Bella introduced me to him properly a bit before I joined. He'd married Cissy by then so he was meant to be part of the family," Regulus said with a mirthless smile as he gazed away into a far corner. Hermione watched him in unaltered fascination, enthralled by the tale of the pure-bloods that had been so unknown to her before.

"I never liked Cissy much, but I thought her husband was even worse. I remember telling Dromeda that I hoped they'd stay in their icy hell together forever," Regulus said with a snort before he sobered up again. "Sirius didn't like Malfoy either and we used to make jokes about him before he got married to Cissy and became a family member."

"I heard Sirius fought with Bellatrix at the wedding," Hermione said slowly, having remembered Lucius telling her briefly about the time when he had witnessed Sirius using some kind of Dark Arts to beat his cousin in a duel.

"How do you know?"

"Well – er – Lucius told me when he was trying to explain something," Hermione said as vaguely as she could, feeling a flutter of nervousness as Regulus' eyes narrowed in a suspicious stare.

"He's changed, you know. I don't know what he was like back then, but he doesn't seem the same person now," Hermione pressed on, feeling a shiver of doubt as she thought over Lucius' greatly unfathomable character.

"Two-faced, arrogant prat," Regulus muttered sullenly while Hermione gave a small sigh.

"He's…a good man deep inside, I think," Hermione countered steadily while Regulus looked up at her with a grim face.

"What makes you think that? Don't you know he hates Muggles and Muggleborns?"

"Like I said, he's changed," Hermione said firmly as she refused to think of Lucius as bad again. "He's been trying to help me get rid of the curse."

"Not doing too well, is he?" Regulus jeered a little before he became serious once more. "He won't know what to look for. Not without a Black's help."

"I suppose that's where that Compromitus thing can be used," Hermione suggested as she thought about the magical agreement the Malfoys and Blacks had with each other, where they could exchange family secrets.

"That is one way," Regulus conceded with a careless shrug.

"Was Bellatrix a close cousin of yours?" Hermione asked carefully, needing to know the answer before explaining about her situation.

"I liked her at first, but she was horribly unstable at times. Andromeda was probably my favourite cousin."

"Well, Bellatrix went to Azkaban for a long time, and was quite mad when she escaped to join Voldemort at his return," Hermione started in a slow, thoughtful tone as she worked out what needed to be told and what didn't. "Towards the end of the war, Voldemort had made Malfoy Manor his base and I think the Death Eaters used to hold their meetings there. Harry, Ron and I were hunting Horcruxes at that time, but we were captured by these people called Snatchers, who earned money by capturing Muggleborns, and we were taken to Malfoy Manor. I know you found one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, but I don't know if you knew he had six others."

Regulus looked bewildered for a moment as he shook his head in denial of the knowledge.

"He made them in objects that were special to him and Gryffindor's sword was one of them. We'd stolen it from the Lestranges' Gringotts vault and when the Snatchers brought us to Malfoy Manor, Voldemort wasn't there, but Bellatrix was, and she saw what we'd taken from her. Harry and Ron were locked away while she chose me to ask about it. That was when she – when she tortured me."

Hermione involuntarily shuddered as she felt tremors of fear and pain ripple through her as her horrific memories of that night rose unbidden before her mind's eye. After a moment of struggling to ignore the cackling laughter and maddened yellow eyes, she managed to shake off the horrible grappling of her usual nightmare and refocused on Regulus, who was watching her unblinkingly.

"I've been cursed with nightmares of that time ever since," she said solemnly as she met him squarely in the eye.

"And you asked Malfoy to help?"

"He was the only one suitable. All the other Death Eaters are insane and locked up," Hermione sighed wearily. "Besides, he would understand better because he was there at the time –"

"He watched you getting tortured?" Regulus interrupted curtly, his eyes wide as he stared at her incredulously.

"He had no choice. He had a family to protect and I don't think anyone else mattered that much to him. Bellatrix would've turned on him if he spoke out against what she did to me," Hermione replied resignedly while a dark cloud settled over Regulus' expression.

"Coward," he muttered disdainfully while Hermione gazed away at the dark curtains dolefully. Truly, she didn't think it was Lucius' fault. Of course, he could have tried to stop it from happening, but she supposed he had had little choice in that particular situation. At least he was trying to make up for it now.

"I've forgiven him for it," Hermione said with a shrug. "No one can change the past, but Lucius is doing his best to fix the consequences."

"I don't know why you would even want to pardon him. I know I would have killed him by now," Regulus said vehemently while Hermione gave him a sad look.

"Dumbledore always gave people a second chance. I want Lucius to have that too."

"Does he actually know that you're…sainting over him like this?" Regulus asked with his upper lip slightly curled in disparagement.

Hermione shrugged again. "I don't know."

"No matter. I have gained what I needed from him," Regulus remarked nonchalantly, causing surprise and confusion to flare up in Hermione

"What do you mean?"

"The diary in which I stored my memory was one of the Dark Lord's experimental pieces," Regulus explained with a hint of conceited smile. "I saw him making the Horcrux in his own diary, and I stole it without him knowing to see how it worked. I had begun to be wary of what I had joined, and wanted to know as much as I could about the Dark Lord. I attempted to mirror his efforts to make a Horcrux by using the experimental diary and slipped his real diary back before he noticed."

"Did you have to kill someone then?" Hermione asked in spellbound horror.

"I killed a dog to obtain a fraction of my self and trap it in the book," Regulus explained tonelessly. "I admit it was frightening; I was haunted by a Grim after doing that."

Hermione instantly thought back to her third-year when Harry had thought he'd seen a big, black hound and Ron had fearfully told them of the dreadful Grim who appeared twenty-four hours before the victim died. It had later turned out, that the dog had been none other than Sirius in his Animagus form, and Hermione wondered if Regulus had seen the same.

"My version of a Horcrux was much weaker because I had used a non-human source for the murder, and so I could only lock up a memory of myself, rather than a piece of my soul, for which I was glad."

"But if you're a memory, how are you so…real?" Hermione asked in puzzlement, her mind clattering with thoughts as she took in everything he was saying.

"These weaker Horcruxes are sometimes known as Halfcruxes, and the memory stored in them can be made real with the addition of the same type of blood as the original creator," Regulus said in an intelligent manner.

"When you wrote in the diary, it gave me some strength to leave the confines of the book, even though I didn't have any physical form. It was like being an invisible spirit. I could Summon the Knife of Arcturus and that was the day you and Malfoy happened to be in my room. I cut him to gain a sample of his blood, but the bastard was too quick, and I only got enough to make myself into a ghost."

"Wait, so does that mean you will always need to take some of Lucius' blood to survive?" Hermione enquired quickly, frowning as she began to fit pieces of the elusive puzzle together.

"For now," Regulus conceded with a slight nod as he unhurriedly stood up to flex his hands and arms. "If you had told him about me and my need for his blood, he would have done something to stop me, I am certain of it."

"I'm sure if I could explain it properly to him, he would –"

"I am taking no risks," Regulus bit in briskly. "He will not know."

"Fine," Hermione agreed in reluctant agreement, despairing at the thought of allowing something to happen to Lucius.

"It is getting light," Regulus remarked a little ruefully as he glanced towards the windows, talking of the thin sliver of pale light that was beginning to shine through the miniscule gap. Hermione looked up to see the coming of a grey dawn and sunk back into her pillows tiredly.

"Go back to sleep and think about what I said," Regulus told her imperiously as he began to fade in form. Hermione watched him mutely as he vanished completely, leaving her staring blankly at the far wall. Her sleeping mind whirred with the effort to digest everything she had found out in the last hour, and she thought she might fall asleep from the great effort of it all.

A moment later, she was sitting bolt upright again as an idea occurred to her. Breathless with excitement and anticipation, Hermione hurriedly slid out of bed and pointed her illuminating wand before her as she quickly opened the door and walked out onto the corridor, barely pausing before gently turning the handle of the door next to hers.

She had decided she didn't have time to knock as she quietly let herself in to Lucius' room, too exhilarated at the thought that had presented itself in her eager mind. Remembering the disaster the last time she had called upon his sleeping form, Hermione stopped a short distance away from the end of his bed, seeing him lying above the covers still fully dressed with the exception of his robes, which had been draped neatly across the end of the bed.

"Lucius?" she called tentatively, wincing slightly at the sound of her voice shattering the utter silence of the room. There was no response from the barely moving form of the elder Malfoy. She tried calling his name again, this time a little louder, but Lucius still made no sign of waking up. Feeling worried at his unusually heavy sleep, Hermione dared herself to walk closer until she had crouched down at the bedside, and reached over to gently shake his shoulder while holding her wand up to cast light on his face.

"Lucius?"

Silver eyes snapped open while a hand immediately gripped Hermione's wrist painfully tight, causing her to give a small yelp of surprise as he came to.

"It's just me!" she assured him hurriedly when she saw him glancing around in quick calculation. Hermione sighed in relief when Lucius released her hand, watching as he slowly relaxed back onto the bed.

"What in the name of Merlin are you doing here?" Lucius asked in an unexpectedly tired murmur.

"I'm sorry, but I just thought of something," Hermione told him in gentle whisper, feeling guilty at having wakened him.

"Will that mind of yours never stop thinking?" Lucius drawled sleepily as he remained with closed eyes, his face looking unnaturally drawn and pale.

"You look ill. Are you feeling alright?" Hermione asked with concern as she slowly perched on the edge of the bed.

"I am fine," Lucius replied dismissively before he swallowed hard and frowned with the effort. Hermione was startled at how pinched he was looking, and quickly lowered her wand to light a candle on the bedside table before extinguishing the overly bright wandlight.

"I don't think you're fine at all," she told him worriedly as she pressed hand to his forehead only to withdraw it quickly in surprise at feeling the sheer coldness of his skin.

"You're all cold and pale," Hermione said anxiously while Lucius merely opened his eyes and blinked wearily at her.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked in a languid murmur, looking slightly dazed as he turned his blank eyes on her. Hermione stared at him in rising disquiet as she realised he was far more unwell than either of them had suspected. Pointing her wand at the bedcovers beneath him, she quickly made them slide out from underneath him and threw it over his exhausted frame, using her hands to cover him properly. She could sense that he was falling asleep again as he made no move to stop her, and took the opportunity to shuffle onto the bed a bit more so that she could sit comfortably.

She should have known he was ill; he hadn't leapt up like she had expected him to upon waking. Fear started to trickle down her insides as she wondered if this was all to do with Regulus taking some of his life force. Gazing down at his fatigued face with a frown of concern, Hermione temporarily forgot what she had come to tell him about as she worried over how ailing Lucius was. She picked up her wand to place a Warming Charm on him before setting it on the bedside table again and shuffling closer to touch a testing hand against his cheek.

Grimacing in rising irritation at Regulus, Hermione decided she was going to have to speak to him about it, as there was no way she was going to allow him to weaken Lucius with his blood thievery. It was one thing to keep a huge secret from Lucius, but it was another to actually let him come to gradual harm by his continued ignorance of Regulus' return. Feeling distinctly agonised by her trapped position, Hermione silently fretted over what to do, not wanting to give up either of her dark acquaintances. It certainly didn't help that Lucius and Regulus disliked each other, but she was certain there could a way to change that.

Contemplating the challenge of melting barriers between the two wizards, Hermione steadily nodded off.

 

A soft groan escaped Lucius' lips as he woke up, feeling a strange pain spiking through his chest. He hadn't felt such agony since the last time he had been Crucio'd multiple times, and that had been many, many years ago. Struggling to open his eyes and gain control of his senses, he blinked laboriously around the room he was in, frowning at finding himself away from his hold at the Manor. The blue-tinted light of dawn slunk in through the unobstructed window and Lucius squinted as even that soft light stung his eyes.

His hands instinctively searched for his wand as he concentrated on breathing evenly, his breath hitching in surprise when the fingers of his right hand found a curly mass of hair not far from his shoulder. His mind came to a grinding halt as he vaguely remembered the Granger girl coming to him in the night and assumed that she had fallen asleep while waiting for him to come around. Stifling another groan as pain jolted through him, Lucius slowly sat up, feeling his muscles and bones ache horribly with the effort.

He felt like he was in Azkaban all over again; his body wasted after months of sitting in an empty cell. His mind resumed its usual perspicacious track, and his memory reminded him all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Leaning his head and shoulders against the headboard, Lucius considered the mystery behind his release from the Dark Lord's Binding spell. How had that happened? One moment he had been fine, and the next, he had felt something shifting inside him, as though the chains that bound him had fallen away. A great weight had been lifted off of him, and the split-second of sheer bliss he had felt at his real freedom had been utter euphoria.

There was still no telling why it had happened when it had, but Lucius had been hoping to find something about it in that ancient book he had pulled out before he had been overwhelmed by a sudden weariness. Drawing his brows together in a frown, he wondered what was going on. He had never been prone to such a draining of energy before and it made him terribly suspicious of something happening without his knowledge. It was a weakening state he had only briefly felt when he had been blood-poisoned, but surely Black couldn't have come back without him being aware of it? He was sure the Granger girl would have told him…

Lucius glanced down at the sleeping witch beside him and considered her very carefully. She seemed to be too honest to lie to him, but maybe he was wrong to put her down as a complete Gryffindor. Still, that wouldn't explain why she would keep Regulus a secret from him, if he had indeed returned. After a moment of weighing the possibilities, Lucius decided Granger was simply too good for such backhanded deceit. It wouldn't be like her to hide things from him, and he didn't want to unreasonably blame her for something that was most likely not her fault.

A sense of approval entered his mind as he thought over the little enigma, and a deeply unfamiliar feeling passed over him as he considered the fact that the bedcovers had been drawn over him. Had the girl actually come to look after him? Lucius mentally shuddered at the idea of being seen in such a hideously vulnerable state, but he supposed that Granger was too benign a soul to disclose that little fact to anyone. No one had ever seen him in complete weakness except Narcissa and Severus, and Lucius still hated the fact that they had witnessed it. Being weak was something he despised above all things in life, and it almost hurt him to know that he was very capable of it.

"Pitiful," he muttered aloud in disdain of himself, feeling distinctly nettled by his own failings.

"What?" Hermione immediately gasped as she sat up in alarm, looking around with bewilderment as the sleep left her eyes.

"Ah. Good…morning, Miss Granger," Lucius said slowly, eyeing that frightful mass of bushy hair as the girl hurriedly sought to wake herself fully.

"Are you feeling any better?" she asked him, her large eyes brimming with concern that irritated Lucius ever so slightly.

"Of course," he drawled dismissively as if he had been fine all night. It annoyed him to be thought of as an average dunce who couldn't handle a bit of pain.

"You were looking so pale and cold," the girl told him softly as she leaned in close enough for Lucius to catch the sweet, flowery scent she wore. "I placed a Warming Charm on you."

"Your efforts did not go to waste," Lucius answered in cryptic thanks, surprised to see that Granger had lost whatever fear she had for him in the beginning, and had no trouble drawing closer to lightly place a hand on his forehead with a frown of concern.

"Good. I think your temperature is back to normal now. Are you hurting anywhere?"

In my chest, Lucius answered in his mind as the sharp prickles of agony crackled through him again. Hiding his grimace as best he could, he gave a small shake of his head as he denied her medical attention. The last thing he wanted was for her to be crooning over him as though he were some kind of idiot in the Hospital Wing.

"Is that you or your pride acting?" Granger said in mild scepticism as she reached for her wand, causing Lucius to watch her closely in scrutiny. Before he had a chance to answer, she had waved her wand over him in silence, cheating Lucius out of the prospect of knowing what spell she was placing on him. He realised what it was when he saw a small red ball of light pulsing above his chest in an obvious pointer of his pain, and glanced at the far-too-intelligent girl with a look that he hoped conveyed his irritation.

"It was your pride after all," she said with a small smile as she waved the light to disappear and shook her head in disbelief. "What kind of pain is it?"

"Sharp. Sporadic," Lucius answered curtly, knowing that it would be childish to argue with her on the subject of his pride. He had been hoping that she would simply do her duty as a nurse and fetch him some potion before leaving him in peace, but it seemed that the thoughts of Hermione Granger were not quite that simple.

"Maybe it's to do with some prolonged effects of blood-poisoning," she began in a pensive tone as she flourished her wand in intricate patterns before him, drawing out some unfamiliar symbols in gold light.

"Combined with the ending of that horrid enchantment you were under, it can't have reacted too well," she said knowledgeably as she finished whatever spell-casting she was doing and raised her eyes to his.

"I need to know exactly where it hurts," she announced firmly, giving Lucius no choice but to exhale in muted exasperation as he gestured to the centre of his chest.

"The pain comes around here," he answered in a bored drawl, finding it tedious that they had to go through some kind of medical interrogation. Surely it was easier and quicker to simply drink a potion and get some rest?

"Around…here?"

Lucius tensed automatically as a small hand gently patted his shirt front, his heartbeat increasing of its own accord as he felt the tips of her fingers touch his bare skin where his shirt collar opened. Glancing down sharply, he saw that Granger wasn't aware of him as anything besides being her patient, and Lucius hoped she hadn't notice how his pulse had quickened at her unexpected touch. He gave a short wheeze of pain before clamping his mouth shut as her fingers found his solar plexus, and the light pressure upon the spot sent a spark of agony ratting through his nerves.

"There?" his temporary Healer asked carefully.

"Yes. There," Lucius said through clenched teeth as he waited for the shots of pain to subside.

"Right. Hold still," Granger ordered as she removed her hand from his chest and pointed her wand at the spot where it had been. "Amoveo Dolorus!"

Golden light glowed from the tip of her wand and spread into Lucius' chest, sending a soothing ripple over his entire body as any pain vanished instantly. He sighed in relief as he allowed himself to slump against the headboard, the aching in his body having disappeared also. When he felt sufficiently recovered by the spell, he straightened his back again and made to sit up, only to have his Healer force him back down by pressing his shoulders.

"You should rest," Granger told him sternly as he let her push him down onto the bed. "The spell needs some cooperative rest on your part to work fully."

"I suppose you were going to be a Healer at some point in your future," Lucius said in disgruntled curiosity as he accepted her logic and laid his head on the pillow once again.

"Not really. I just learnt some Healing spells in case anything happened when Harry, Ron and I were out hunting for Horcruxes. I didn't expect it to be a picnic in the park."

"As impressive as your wand skills are, would it not have been simpler to give me some potion instead?" Lucius asked as he resigned himself to the fate of entrusting the girl with his vulnerability and lay back in bed.

"Potions are good, but sometimes, spells are better," Hermione said with a shrug as she continued to sit beside him and reached over to raise the sheets to his neck. "I – I think the source of your pain would – er – require a slightly different approach in solving it."

Lucius noticed the hesitancy in her voice, and looked at her cautiously, rethinking his idea of Granger being too sincere to try and lie to him. It sounded as though she knew something about why he had been struck with the invisible wound, and he wasted no time in extracting what he could from her.

"What are you keeping from me?" he said in his carefully menacing whisper, having snatched up one of her wrists in an iron grip.

"Ow! You're hurting me," Granger gasped as she tried to pull her captured hand away. Lucius only tightened his hold and kept her firmly in place as he fixed her with a deadly look, certain that his suspicions were correct.

"What are you not telling me?" he growled in earnest threatening, feeling a rising flush of anger as he realised he had been made a fool.

"Nothing! Nothing! Please, let go," the girl implored with somewhat watery eyes, reminding Lucius that her bones were a lot more fragile than the average man. He reluctantly relinquished his hold on her and relaxed on his back, sighing as he realised he had reverted to his old ways even if for a mere moment.

"Miss Granger, I hope you realise that if you keep something from me, it will only be slowing down the process of ridding you of the curse."

"I know, I know… I promise I'm not hiding anything from you. Do you really think I'd be able to lie to you?"

Lucius gazed into her big, brown eyes that glowed a little in the rising daylight and decided he would trust her with this. He knew he'd be more than wrathful, should he find her to be lying to him, but she was safe for now. There was no need to accuse her if she was innocent.

"I shall take your word on it," he told her coolly in a manner he knew to show his trust as well as the underlying threat in his tone. He eyed the young witch coldly for a moment to let the message sink in before closing his eyes and exhaling in greatly-needed rest.

"Please, trust me on this," Hermione whispered to him as she leaned over to place her little hands on his shoulder in a mark of believable sincerity.

"I will," Lucius assured her in a murmur, soothed by the warm feeling of her touch spreading through his shirt and onto his skin.

He missed the look of immense guilt that spread over Hermione' face as he fell asleep once again.


	19. XIX

43\. A Truth That Complicates

Hermione watched Lucius fall back asleep with a troubled look on her face. Her insides had clenched with biting guilt at Lucius' trust in her and being allowed to witness his state of noticeable vulnerability made her all the more aware of how terrible she was being. The dull ache on her wrist she felt from his iron grip felt light and trivial compared to what she was doing to him. Gazing down at his sleeping face, her heart twisted even more in shame and remorse as she considered his sharp features which had softened under the soothing presence of slumber. Hermione had no idea when she had become so concerned about Lucius' feelings or why she was so bothered; after all, he certainly wouldn't give a Sickle about her if their situations were reversed. Or would he?

Frowning in complicated thought, she contemplated everything that lay between and around them and wondered over what she might have missed. It worried her to think that had they not been forcibly united against one greater evil, she and Lucius would never have even given a second glance at each other. Hermione's anxiety grew as she thought more about that notion and it made her realise just how much she had grown to accept him. To think that their acquaintance would be severed once their mission was done…

She would miss him. It frightened her to acknowledge it, but Hermione didn't think there was much point in denying the truth. Keeping her eyes fixed on his smooth face, she gently removed her hands that had been resting on his shoulder and leaned closer to study him better, feeling a sudden desperate wish to see if she could unravel his mysteries and find the real man deep inside simply be scrutinising him.

In the pale light of morning, Hermione could see how his unmarred skin glowed like cold marble, uninviting and unreachable to human touch. She took advantage of the chance presented to her and eyed him closely, able to see the fine lines around his eyes and mouth and the harder creases along his forehead that seemed the products of hard thought. His observant eyes were hidden under closed lids rimmed with fair lashes while his straight nose bore down at a proud angle. He looked so distant, unconcerned, peaceful… Hermione wouldn't have been able to tell if he were dead or alive, was it not for the steady rise and fall of his chest and the quiet breaths through his nose.

Staring at him, it occurred to her how strange it was, that someone as intricate and enigmatic as Lucius could hide behind such an expressionless face. She marvelled at how he could paint a thick disguise on all of his emotions and wondered if he had ever allowed himself to be his true, unadulterated self. Something about his general attitude towards his fellow human beings told her that any chance of Lucius being Lucius was rare. He might have acted the loyal follower, the charming sycophant, the ruthless warrior and the power-loving diplomat, but Hermione doubted that any of those affectations had been anything more than what it was; an act that formed a means to an end. Perhaps his fierce love for Draco and devotion to his family were the only things that showed him in an agreeable light, and Hermione suspected that deep down, he was afraid of seeing what his soul had become.

Despite her attempts at getting him to admit his fears, Lucius had staunchly denied such weaknesses every time, and Hermione was worried that he might never accept every part of himself. All his confidence and self-assurance was wasted if he could not be happy with himself, and it irked her to think that he would have to suffer years of self-made misery and doubt.

Maybe she was an interfering, obnoxious good-doer, but at least she wasn't afraid to face the truth, even if it meant it would hurt her. Her bravado and keen sense of doing the right thing had been built into her early on in life, but on second thoughts, she supposed that things were probably very different for Lucius. If he was to face all the lies he had lived his life in accordance with, it wouldn't be a simple realisation of a mistake. His entire world would crumble, right beneath his feet. Thinking of it in that way, Hermione could understand why he would be reluctant, but being someone who knew that the truth could never be cheated, she was determined to make him see.

It would be a way to make up for the vast guilt she felt at keeping Regulus a secret from him and it was the least she could do. While Hermione didn't agree with Regulus at all on the stealing of another's life, she had doubtfully decided that she would humour him for a short while to see if she could make him change his mind. She did need all the help she could get, but there was no way she would be allowing anyone else to come to harm in the process. If keeping Lucius safe meant losing Regulus, then that was how it was going to have to be. Lucius deserved her loyalty, and Hermione had no wish to destroy whatever respect and trust they had managed to form between them.

Feeling a little better at sorting out her priorities in her busy mind, she absent-mindedly raised a hand to touch Lucius' warm cheek and was surprised to hear him give a small sigh at the contact. Curiosity greatly piqued, Hermione turned her attention to her sleeping companion and gently stroked a finger along his sharp jaw line, bemused by the way Lucius shifted his head in his sleep so that his face leaned into the palm of her hand. A peculiar sensation fluttered deep inside her as she stared at Lucius, her mind whirring with theories on the various reasons that might explain his unexpected reactions.

When he parted his lips to murmur something incoherent, Hermione was jolted out of her pensive trance and her intrigue burnt stronger, consuming her common sense and good judgement as it flared its way through her melting guard. Unintentionally drawing in a deep breath and holding it, she slowly trailed her fingers down to beneath his jaw, lightly caressing his smooth skin and enthralled by the feeling of pure thrill that rushed through her as she did so. Somehow, in the sweet tension of the silent room, Hermione found herself growing jittery from anticipation as she half-expected Lucius to wake up any moment. The exhilaration she felt from simply toying with that risk made everything seem unnaturally exciting, and a part of her wanted him to awaken while another part of her trembled fearfully at the thought.

Her fingers paused upon finding a strong, steady pulse at a spot a little way down the side of his throat and she felt an unexpected sense of delight at feeling a river of life pulsate beneath her sensitive fingertips. Glancing up at his face to determine his state, Hermione felt a flush of relief at seeing him still fast asleep. A tremor of adrenalin induced by her bold daring rippled through her senses as she hesitantly drew a faint line down his neck until she reached the slight rise of his collarbone. Her mind was a hundred miles away as she curiously ran a finger over the small triangle of skin exposed to her from between his open shirt collar and the pace of her heart doubled when Lucius suddenly flexed his shoulders and murmured some more undecipherable words as he turned his face towards her and his hand came to rest over hers at the base of his throat.

Hermione froze in uncertainty, startled into a realising what she was doing was madness, and she almost panicked as she felt his fingers curl around hers in a gentle yet firm hold. Feeling decidedly foolish and irresponsible, she tried to think how to extract her hand without disturbing Lucius' slumber and nibbled on her bottom lip as she regarded the rather awkward situation. If he woke up now, she imagined he would be far from happy, and knowing how his anger could range from cold silence to frightening snarls, Hermione didn't want to chance that happening.

Drawing in a sharp breath of relief at feeling him loosen his fingers, Hermione gently pulled her hand out from underneath his and stood up from the bed as quickly as possible without making any noise or big movements. She let out a low breath when she glanced down to see Lucius hadn't noticed a thing and left the room swiftly, having decided she was better off keeping to the safer pastime of reading books.

 

He was standing on a hill, looking down the sharp slope as faceless figures slowly marched towards him. Coming closer, closer, closer… The sky was an oppressive shade of listlessness that bore down on him like a great weight, unshakeable and crushing. He could feel the air in his lungs being stolen away as the sealed silence pressed up against him to smother him, stifling his very life as he stood frozen to the spot. 

Out of nowhere, a woman's single scream ripped the heavy noiselessness, the terrifying pitch of the hellish cry tearing at him as it tore at her throat. As if taking the terrible, convulsing shriek as a command, the slumping bodies of soulless beings trudged harder towards him, spreading a devouring fear through his very soul as they steadily drew nearer…

The harsh sky was rent apart by yet another hideous scream and he cowered in crippling horror, crumbling faster as he was assaulted by the knowledge of his part in this horrendous ensemble. He had orchestrated this. He was the reason why someone was screaming… 

Lucius jerked upright with a start, gasping for breath as he threw back the bedcovers violently, leaping out of bed without thinking and grabbing his wand off the bedside table. His heart was pounding vigorously, flushing adrenalin through his system as he glanced around the sunlit room to determine where he was. His head ached with a vicious pain and he felt distinctly uneasy as the cool air breezed across the thin sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. Even after he had realised he wasn't being threatened by anything, he couldn't stop the feeling of deep agitation that was rattling him.

It was certainly not the first time he had dreamed that dreadful vision, but Lucius felt more bothered by it this time than he had ever felt before. Something was gnawing at him like a festering disease, the symptoms confusing and unable to be identified as anything recognisable. Standing in the centre of the bedroom, Lucius calmed himself as the winter sunshine slowly pushed the discomfort out of him and soothed him, feeling the last remnants of his unwelcome dream curling away into oblivion like smoke. He drew comfort from holding his wand as he tried to assess his curiously recurring dream that always seemed to leave him deeply unsettled. There was something strangely frightening about the monochrome tone of his vision and the faceless entities that plagued him even without touching him directly. Lucius was sure he had vaguely recognised a few of the faces that had grown features during the terrible march, but it was the frenetic scream that hounded his conscience the most.

He knew where that scream came from and who it was that was baying in such unadulterated pain, and it made him desperately wish for the power to stop that scream before it ripped the girl's throat open. The Granger girl. Lucius clenched his hands in tense fists as he agonised over the one moment in his life that continued to return to the forefront of his mind with aggravating frequency, struggling to understand why it continued to haunt him so vigorously. He had endured years of watching others suffer without feeling a flicker of compassion, although his indifference had occasionally been broken by the feelings of disgust or irritation at unnecessary torture. He was familiar with both perceiving and receiving pain and generally had little concern for those who writhed under a torturous wand, but some unfamiliar part of his self that had been previously unknown to him had awakened at impassively watching an eighteen-year-old girl never giving up even as she was crushed to the floor.

He had admired her for it.

He had admired Hermione Granger for clinging onto her dignity and faith in the face of overwhelming agony and it made Lucius feel peculiarly disconcerted to realise that he actually respected someone. There weren't many people that he truly held in respect, but somehow, he couldn't help feeling impressed at the memory of her fierce loyalty even as Bellatrix had tried to break her. He didn't know of many people who could have done that. Perhaps Severus or himself, but never a young woman barely out of childhood. He knew that had it been Draco, his son wouldn't have had a fifth of the Granger girl's strength, a fact that both irked and amazed him. As much as he loved his son, Lucius couldn't quite stop the whisper of disappointment he felt at Draco's qualities from a purely critical point of view; he had always hoped to have an equally powerful or perhaps even stronger heir to continue his legacy. His own harsh childhood had made Lucius all the more determined to give his entire life for the sake of his heir, but he could now acknowledge that his good intentions had backfired on him in the unwise manner he had raised Draco.

Ever since he had heard of a Muggleborn besting his son in every way at school, Lucius had felt a strange mixture of resentment and curiosity at the girl that could beat Draco despite her…different background. A sudden thought entered his mind as he pondered over the subject; Granger reminded him very much of his wife's sister, Andromeda, who had been in his year at Hogwarts. While he had never been particularly close or concerned with the middle Black sister, he could recall her fierce tenacity in academic pursuits and her unbelievably sharp intellect. She had proved to be quite the rival for him in the youthful fight for power, matching his own perspicacity in a way that had been irritating at the time. Lucius was aware that everyone from respectable pure-blood backgrounds had condemned Andromeda for her choosing a Muggleborn as a partner, but he couldn't honestly say that he either cared or judged her decision. He had certainly believed that those of purer blood had higher rights to the wizarding world, but he knew enough about human relations to know that emotions could sway logic in the most unexpected ways.

Perhaps that was what he was going through now. He had never felt so lenient with his totalitarian views, but solving the unfathomable enigma of Hermione Granger bit by bit was doing something to his view of the world. Over the last few weeks, he had discovered that she wasn't noticeably different, unless her extremely pert intelligence could be put into consideration. There was nothing to show that she was any different to what a pure-blood might be, and Lucius now realised that he had spent most of his time oblivious to the fact that she was anything other than a highly advanced witch.

Witch. That made him pause in his flow of thoughts to decipher his incoherent knot of feelings. He was a married man living in a house with only an unattached, young woman for company, and that fact made him feel slightly uncomfortable under the collar. It was a fortunate thing that his current whereabouts were unknown to the general public as most would have accused him of something unsavoury, he was sure of it. However, Narcissa obviously trusted him enough to let him get on with his work and her opinion was all that mattered to him on this count. Everyone else could go to hell for all he cared.

Still, it wasn't enough to dispel the disquiet lingering on his mind. Lucius hated being out of control and he had done everything in his power to keep himself from falling into the unknown, but it hadn't been enough to stop him stumbling. He had thought himself too centred and strong to be preyed on by emotions which he regarded as weakening and disdainful, but he had a horrible feeling that he was very much in the wrong. Change wasn't something he was scared of; he had always been able to adapt and compromise to suit his situation, but his emotions were a different matter altogether.

Never before, had he felt so many feelings in such an acute manner.

Walking back to the bed to slowly lower himself until he was sitting down, Lucius tried to analyse the cultivated mess his mind was creating. He was losing ground to his deep fear of uncertainty and there was nothing that was providing him with any reassurance. Passing his hands over his face in a moment of solitary lack of composure, he pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered what was happening to him. It wasn't like him to lose control. Lucius Malfoy did not lose control. He could not lose control. Something told him that if he let the reins go now, his entire world would be destroyed, pillar by pillar. Whether it would end only with his rebirth or his death, Lucius didn't know, but there was no denying that he was afraid. Afraid of being completely lost.

All his life, he had had a grand purpose. He had scorned those who had wandered through existence aimlessly, and he had always believed that he was a vessel of power that served a greater purpose than the rest of mankind. He had been an epitome of power, a man of providence and prominence. No one knew the inner workings of politics quite like him and no one had ever matched him in his charming competence. The world had been his for the taking…

There was nothing to look forward to now. Holding his head in his hands, Lucius reflected what he might have been and how he might have done it. He could have risen to such eminent heights, if only he had never made his first and greatest mistake of joining the Dark Lord. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he allowed his shoulders to slump, too weary to bother holding up his physical dignity. He was slowly beginning to feel the weight of his crimes in a way he had never thought to be possible, even though he had already tasted the bitter tang of regret and humiliation while in Azkaban. A certain part of him pushed to believe that had he remained with his family rather than agreeing to aid Granger, he would never have had to face the haunting anguish of guilt that was now tormenting him. After all, it was her fault that he was beginning to think of all the consequences his actions might have caused.

While it was admittedly true that he had only started to use his conscience properly since the time the Granger girl had begun bombarding him with her inanely vigorous enthusiasm for human rights, Lucius wasn't sure it was a bad thing either. He was intelligent, and although he didn't hold account to a particular set of morals, he knew that what he had done in the past while wearing his dubious mask was far from benevolent and positive. His lack of concern for others had meant he could ignore any feelings of responsibility for his fellow humans in the past, but he didn't think it would be possible for him to do any of that now.

What had the girl done to him that he couldn't even go to sleep at night? Suppressing the urge to snarl in frustration, Lucius passed an agitated hand through his long hair and didn't spare any attention when the sleek strands fell forward to curtain his face in a manner he usually found highly irritable. He was being tormented by his own conscience and he would have never believed before that it was possible to feel so physically uncomfortable from some unknown feeling. It was like an unreachable itch between his shoulder blades that made him flex his shoulders in the hopes of getting rid of the utterly non-configurable sensation. He couldn't pinpoint where the feeling was coming from, although his mind was rife with the bizarre sentiment of gnawing remorse.

Clenching his hands in tight fists, Lucius leaned over with his elbows resting on his knees as he stared blankly out the window at the pale blue sky. He felt an unfamiliar disturbance in his soul, although he didn't know if that was even possible. The suddenness of his new condition left him at wit's end on thinking what it might be; he had never undergone such a strange experience in all his years. He knew it himself that he wasn't a man of many emotions, but the feelings he had felt in the last few hours had been…exquisitely complex. A day before, and he had been perfectly like himself, but something had changed in him ever since the disillusionment of the Binding enchantment…

Lucius sat upright in an abrupt movement, eyes having widened a little as he thought about everything he knew on the subject. Binding enchantments were known to occasionally leave the victims affected in various ways, depending on the strength and intent of the spell. In his case, he had been bound in an unpromising combination of hate and greed, which didn't seem likely to leave a terribly positive effect on him. He had found a good few pages on the spell in a book the night before, but he had been too overcome by a sudden sense of exhaustion which had led him to bed without even finishing the first two pages. It would be undoubtedly enlightening to read the rest of the short chapter, although Lucius had an odd suspicion that it wouldn't be anything particularly favourable to know.

For a long moment, he agonised over what was hounding him, as he could not makes heads or tails of it. It was an infuriating sensation, as he was certain he knew the answer, but nothing was coming to mind. His continued confusion aggravated him into action, and burning with inner anguish, he left the room in quick strides, snatching his robes off the end of the bed and throwing them on somewhat carelessly as he went.

 

Hermione breathed out slowly as she stood staring at the picture of the Slytherin Quidditch team of more than twenty years ago smiling and waving up at her. The photo never ceased to make her smile back sadly, leaving her mind to wonder what had happened to each and every one of those happy, young men. She couldn't identify any of the faces except for Regulus' and it made her unsettled to imagine how some of these fresh faces might have become the wizards, ugly with hate, who had attempted to destroy everything she held dear. They were deserving of whatever miserable fate might have befallen them, but Hermione wasn't sure if she could even hate them anymore.

Stepping away from the faded photograph, she swivelled her eyes to look around the long disused room and contemplated how the youngest Black son had once lived there in the flesh. She had half-expected Regulus to appear now that she was actually standing in his room, but she hadn't heard or seen anything of him. A part of her was a little worried that he was absent as she couldn't think what he was doing that might keep him away from her when she was alone, but there were no answers that could be given to her.

Her mind felt overloaded as thoughts overturned and rebounded in her head, and Hermione mindlessly took a few steps until she was at the foot of the large, dusty bed that showed traces of having been majestic once upon a time. Sinking slowly until she was sitting with her back against the finely carved footboard, she drew up her legs before her and loosely clasped her arms around them. The rays of the winter sun poured in through the long window facing her from the opposite wall and the pale white light danced melancholy patterns across the greying floorboards, showing the many cracks that lined the old wood. Watching the light play across the slight grooves and ridges of the floor, Hermione wondered what life had been like for Regulus.

He could be snide and unpleasant when he wanted to be, but Hermione thought that his cool indifference was very much a mask to hide himself behind. From the short moments of unexpected grief she had glimpsed during their few meetings, she could guess that he harboured a great sadness that spanned not only his brief time as a Death Eater, but probably stemmed from his early childhood, when he realised that Sirius was the favoured son. Being an only child, Hermione couldn't say for sure what it must have been like to be outdone every time by someone else, but she could imagine the hurt and resentment that might build up in retaliation of it.

She had felt an instinctive urge to comfort and enliven Regulus at seeing the momentary anguish that was webbed through his very soul, and she could admit that she wanted to see him very much. Her compassion and willing to understand had always been qualities her parents had championed, and Hermione was glad that their striving had paid off with her inheriting those values. While her friends had occasionally made a light complaint on how she seemed to sympathise with everyone, even the bad guys, she had always justified herself by announcing that love wasn't an exclusive thing. Everyone deserved to be given a second chance, even the evildoers. Maybe they actually needed it more than everyone else.

Regulus' story was particularly saddening as well as inspiring in Hermione's mind, and she couldn't deny that she had come to care for him, even before she had met him in spirit. Now that she had seen him with her own eyes, her concern had become much more realised, and she knew she couldn't let him get hurt anymore than he had been. When he had told her not to tell Lucius anything, Hermione had been willing to try just for Regulus' sake, but she wasn't so sure that she could keep up the lying anymore. It had only been a day, but her disloyalty to Lucius made her feel surprisingly uncomfortable and uneasy with herself. She supposed that Regulus' reasons for making her keep him secret was born out of mainly good intentions, as she had a feeling he was trying to protect her from Lucius, who he believed to be untrustworthy, but Hermione didn't think it could go on. She needed to convince Regulus of Lucius' sincerity, as she knew him to be honourable in his own way, although how she was going to persuade him, she didn't know.

Sighing in a loss of plans, Hermione turned her mind to Lucius instead, feeling a curious fluttering in her stomach as she thought back to earlier that morning. He had appeared so…vulnerable, eyes closed in obliviousness to the rest of the world. He hadn't protested at her nursing of him and something glowed warmly deep inside Hermione as she felt touched by his evident trust in her. She could have never hoped for more from him. Lucius was and she suspected would always be an enigma to her, but she was certain he would be a familiar enigma by the end of it all.

Smiling slightly to herself, her thoughts turned back to her guilt of her secret-keeping and she found herself deliberating all the more on what she should do. It would be impossible to keep anything from Lucius for much longer, as his sharp perception had been proved earlier in the day when he had suspected her of lying. Hermione sulked a little at her inefficiency of the ability to lie, but partly placated herself with the reason that at least honesty was a better thing to have, and she was sure she had plenty of it.

Would it be better to tell Lucius everything now, or let him find out on his own?

She wasn't sure she fancied either of the options. The first choice seemed the most right, if somewhat disagreeable as she would have to go and confront him and hope for the best, but at least it wouldn't be as bad as his inconceivable wrath at finding out her betrayal when it would be too late to go back. Hermione fidgeted a bit as she vacillated on making a decision, unwilling to choose either of them. While she didn't fear Lucius like she had once done, she was still afraid of how angry he could be.

After a few more minutes of wavering uncertainty, Hermione gathered up her courage and rose to her feet, taking one last sweeping glance around the deserted room before leaving in a hurried gait as she headed for the drawing room, walking swiftly to keep herself from faltering either in body or mind. She paused a moment to question her decision when she reached the dark-wooded door, but gave herself no chance to back out as she took a deep breath and entered the room in one smooth movement.

Her eyes immediately found Lucius upon stepping into the large room, seeing him standing against the table he usually sat at, his hands holding a hefty-looking book up to his chest as he read with a slight frown creasing his otherwise smooth brow. He looked up at hearing her open the door and when his light grey eyes rested on her in their cool intensity, Hermione found herself having to nervously swallow back her desire to simply avoid getting on the wrong side of Lucius. Trying not to upset him so quickly into their meeting, Hermione gave him a weak smile which he acknowledged with an arching of one delicate, blond brow.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked in genuine concern, coming over to stand a short distance away from him.

"Much refreshed," Lucius drawled in reply as he lowered his book and turned a little to set it down on the desk behind him before turning back to her and gazing at her in an unfathomable expression.

"I – er – have something to tell you," Hermione said in what she hoped was a tone that hid her trembling nervousness.

"Ah. I see," Lucius replied in slightly irritating flatness, his lack of any enthusiasm doing little to help Hermione's state of agitated apprehension.

"In fact, I've got several things to – um – tell you," she said while glancing away from his somewhat unnerving gaze before being forced to meet his eyes again as she ran out of things to look at.

"I am listening, Miss Granger," he stated to hint his expectancy, one of his hands pulling up his robe sleeve slightly to adjust the simply-cut emerald cufflink on his shirted wrist before he lowered both hands back to his side.

"Well, you see – er – would you like the good news or the bad news first?" said Hermione in a failed attempt to stop from becoming flustered, her cheeks blushing in a reflection of her hard efforts.

"It is of small difference to me," Lucius said without care as he gave a small shrug of his shoulders.

"Right. Maybe I'll start with the good news, just because that feels like the right order," Hermione announced with a touch of briskness, wanting to expel her anxiety with the use of professionalism. Lucius only gave a slight incline of his head to show his acceptance of her decision, and remained unnaturally quiet and inexpressive as she began.

"I have reason to believe that Bellatrix might have made a…Halfcrux in me, using the Knife of Arcturus and the murder of Dobby."

"A Halfcrux?" Lucius repeated with another quirk of his questioning brow.

"Yes. It's a half-measure of a Horcrux, and doesn't require a human murder to create it. It's also less powerful than a Horcrux because of the use of simpler life force that isn't from a human, which Horcruxes are specifically created for and from."

"And such a controversial idea comes from where?" Lucius asked in his old manner of haughtiness, his cool, patronising tone forgoing any evidence that he was the one who was in the more disadvantageous position regarding missing knowledge.

"Well, here comes the bad news," Hermione answered hesitantly as she mustered every ounce of bravado that she might possess. She looked Lucius in the eye as she spoke, making sure to hold his gaze throughout to ensure his belief of her honesty.

"Regulus returned two days ago."

Adrenalin pounded wildly in Hermione as she continued to meet Lucius' hard eyes, feeling as though she had just signed her own death warrant. Her stomach clenched and unclenched in nervous unease and she could feel her heart thumping madly in its cage as she awaited his response, feeling certain that his reaction wouldn't be very agreeable. Lucius stared at her a little longer before he slowly leaned forwards and took a step towards her, causing Hermione to automatically begin assessing the situation and to calculate just how much damage he could do from his current stance before she would be able to move. He was only a yard in front of her and she could see the slight flare of his nostrils as anger coloured his pale eyes a dark grey, giving rise to a certain dread inside Hermione.

"You kept this from me. Why?" he spoke in a low, almost inaudible murmur that didn't mute the threatening menace that laced his tone so elaborately. Hermione swallowed in a difficult gulp as she tried to think of what reply to make, although she was finding it hard to think straight when her mind was being clouded by fear.

"Speak!"

Hermione jumped at hearing him bark out the harsh syllable, and began to truly think she had made a mistake in believing Lucius to have become a tolerant man. He looked far from being pleased as he took another step to loom over her, his face darkened by his thunderous expression.

"Please – please, hear me out," Hermione pleaded fumbling words as she instinctively took a few steps back to maintain some space between them.

"I am listening," Lucius said with a faint sneer, his words repeated from before, but with a whole new world of intimidation sounding in the tone. Hermione stood her ground when he followed her retreat until he was towering over her again, feeling herself quivering despite her forced courage.

"Regulus asked me to keep him a secret. He said he wouldn't help me if you knew about him and I – I promised to do it because I – we need him if we want to find a cure," Hermione said, her frantic babbling steadily turning to a calmer voice as she made herself focus and not be deterred by the terrifying white rage that came off Lucius in powerful waves.

"I wanted to tell you everything, but I was scared he wouldn't help us and I don't know when he's watching me or not. I was going to keep it from you, but I hate having to lie and it made me feel so horrible to keep it a secret from you –"

"Am I to actually believe your poor little heart feels so dreadful at lying to someone such as myself?" Lucius interrupted in cold scorn as his upper lip curled in a mocking sneer Hermione had never seen presented to her before.

"I – I…" she tailed off, at a loss for words as she beheld a completely different aspect of her unpredictable companion.

"Spare me from your innocence," Lucius continued as his derisive mask melted to show his great displeasure. "You need not bother with your act, Miss Granger. I give you exclusive permission to say what you wish to say without embellishing it with falsities."

"I'm telling the truth!" Hermione quickly interjected, bewildered by his bristling anger that had fuelled some unfamiliar and beastly part of him to come to the surface.

"And why should I trust you? You have already spoken at least one lie to me," Lucius reasoned with a mirthless smile as he took a step to close the gap between them. Hermione gave a small hiss when she felt his hand grasp her wrist in a painful grip and tried to free herself, all to no avail.

"Please, Lucius, calm down," she implored him as she glanced up into his eyes, hoping for some compassion, but only seeing an unusual glimmer in his unfeeling eyes.

"Calm down, Miss Granger?" he said in a low murmur with a slight smile of cold amusement resting on his lips as he looked at her in a confusingly serene manner.

"Yes," she whispered without bothering to hide her fearful desperation, "Please."

She watched in anxious apprehension as the corner of Lucius' lips curled a little more in an oddly frightening smile, and her pulse quickened into a maddening pace as he bent his head a little to lean in and murmur into her ear.

"I have no reason to answer to people like you, Miss Granger."

Hermione felt a lump rise in her throat as she heard his sweetly-voiced words that shattered everything she had believed to exist between them. She bit her lip in a faltering attempt to quash her emotions as hurt and anger flooded through her nerves, her heart pierced by his unexpected lash of contempt. She wasn't sure what wounded her more; the fact that Lucius could still despise her, or her own sense of being crushed at his coldness. Closing her eyes to stop the wayward tears of confusing anguish from falling, she heard the soft susurrus of hair as Lucius leaned away, and took a few deep breaths to try and steady herself before opening her eyes to see red.

"People like me?" she repeated quietly, gazing up into his arrogant face as he looked down his nose at her, his thin, bow-shaped lips remaining sealed and silent.

"You have the nerve to say that?" Hermione continued in a hushed tone that trembled with quailing fury. "You, who would be in Azkaban if it wasn't for Harry?"

"Potter is hardly a driving force," Lucius retorted haughtily as he remained gazing down at her with eyes that burned in cold fire.

"You arrogant, pretentious man!" Hermione shouted as her anger overflowed the barrier that had been keeping it at bay. "Ungrateful, horrible people like you deserve to be in Azkaban!"

"I am not the one who is ungrateful!" Lucius snarled suddenly as he grabbed her upper arm and forced her back a few steps until she felt herself pressed against the back of the couch. "You are a fool if you think yourself to be exempt from being judged!"

"Get off me!" Hermione snapped in frustration as she ripped her arm out of his grip, throwing her arms out to try and shove him away. She gave a short snarl as she failed to make Lucius move, his greater frame only coming to pitch against hers so that her legs were pinned to the couch by his thigh as he held her upper arms in a vicious hold.

"Tell me, what does Black think he is doing, keeping you a hostage to his whims?" Lucius sneered as he held her fast, despite Hermione struggling to free herself.

"He's protecting me from you!" she snapped as she fought to shake his iron fingers off, only to have her physical efforts to have been bested by her words as Lucius slowly loosened his hold on her as he stared at her in a look of veiled shock. Hermione took advantage of his slacking grip to pull her arms free and push him back with her hands at his chest. She gained little satisfaction from it however, as Lucius quickly recovered and balanced himself before he had stumbled back more than a step, and Hermione could only glare at him with her old fire blazing in her eyes.

"Protecting you from me," Lucius reiterated in a slightly hollow tone as he gazed unwaveringly at Hermione. "Is that what he truly thinks?"

"It's what I think," Hermione retorted a little breathlessly as she continued to glower at him, feeling surprised at how swiftly her anger was starting to fade, despite having felt near murderous only seconds ago. Staring straight into Lucius' eyes, she could see that his temper was equally faltering as the tension between them crackled with hesitant acceptance.

"I see," Lucius conceded in an expressionless tone as he kept his distance this time, his fury having disappeared quite as suddenly as it had come. Hermione didn't make a reply as the hot air slowly cooled in their heavy silence, seemingly raising an invisible wall between her and Lucius as he stood looking at her with steady eyes. She felt a strange twist in her gut as she gazed back at him, her own fury fading away as she regarded his cold demeanour that seemed to have iced over the unfathomable expression he was wearing. She felt somewhat astounded by their short outburst that had precipitated out of some kind of mutual aggravation; having regained her sensibilities again, she supposed that her own fire had been fuelled by Lucius. He hadn't taken well to the revealing of her secret, just as she had expected, but his sneering jibes had startled Hermione into reacting without thinking. She regretted having snapped at him so heatedly, but a part of her wished that he would say something to dispel the horrible thought of him hating her that was blossoming in her mind. What had he meant by 'people like you'? Hermione suspected it was all related to their blood statuses, but she needed some definite closure. She could feel the bruising his fingers had left on her arm, but she couldn't deny that she had probably deserved it.

Hermione knew that Lucius wasn't a gentle spirit by nature, and despite her fear of his physical wrath, she could understand his violent reaction. Even though he had hurt her in more ways than one, she found herself empathising rather than hating him, wanting to help expel whatever lifelong rage he had gathered inside himself. If she couldn't forget, then at least she could forgive and try to understand what he might be going through.

"What is it that makes you hate me?" she asked eventually, her voice coming out as even and calm, hiding the swell of anxiety she felt at putting the question into words. Lucius immediately exhaled in a reluctant gesture of remorse as he glanced around uncomfortably before he looked at her again.

"My words were spoken in thoughtless haste. They do not mean anything," he told her firmly.

"You don't have to lie to me, Lucius," Hermione interjected gently, preferring him to be completely honest rather than apologising out of habit. "I won't mind if you say you hate me. It wouldn't be anything new, would it?"

Lucius shot her a calculating look as he appeared to be examining his options, although Hermione was surprised when he didn't immediately agree on his dislike of her. She watched in tightening anticipation as he cleared his throat and tried to hide his discomfort, although Hermione could see he wasn't happy with the situation at all.

"I do not, and have not hated you, either in the present or in the past."

Hermione stared at him in open astonishment, aware that he looked highly uncomfortable with the way things were turning. She would have said something to try and alleviate him of his unease, but she could think of nothing to say as her mind was overwhelmed with a tumult of thoughts.

"Black is a Halfcrux," Lucius stated abruptly in a blunt effort to change the subject, his eyes having never left Hermione's as he thought out the answers.

"Yes. The diary he came from was made as a Halfcrux," Hermione confirmed, her head still reeling with the conflicting controversies Lucius had said.

"And he told you this?"

"Yes."

Hermione watched in silent observation as a frown lined Lucius' forehead in brooding while he gazed off unseeingly at something behind her and his eyes hardened in thought. His words earlier had cut her surprisingly weak sense of self-confidence, provoking the insecurities in Hermione to rise rapidly despite her own misconception that she was stronger than that. Lucius seemed to make her nerves all the more fragile, and Hermione felt to be out of control when it came to her errant reactions to his impulsive fuming.

"It is foolish to think that Black could protect you from anything, especially against me," Lucius drawled haughtily as he stood looking down his proud nose at her before stating frostily, "The living have always superseded the dead in physical strength."

"He won't be weaker for long," Hermione returned with a slight bite in her otherwise calm tone, thinking she might as well tell all since she had already broken her promise to Regulus to keep his secret.

"And what exactly does that mean?" Lucius hissed in a low voice as he approached her to intimidate her with his mere presence.

"It – it means he's using your blood to recall himself to life," Hermione gushed in a sudden pulse of aggravation as she felt herself being cornered once again. She tried not to be afraid as Lucius towered over her and singed her with his flaring eyes, but she couldn't stop the tremors of fear that shivered through her at seeing his face pale in barely restrained fury. Recoiling involuntarily as Lucius slowly leaned forwards until his eyes were inches away from hers, Hermione could barely breathe as fear restrained her lungs.

"Do you mean to tell me," Lucius began in a menacing murmur, "that I am being robbed of my own life even as we speak?"

"He – Regulus said that – that it wasn't harmful," Hermione stuttered in a confusing mix of emotions as she leaned backwards over the edge of the couch in order to put as much distance as she could between her and Lucius.

"Harmful?" Lucius whispered with a twitch of his brow as he followed her withdrawal, his hands coming to rest either side of her on the back of the couch and trapping her effectively against escape.

"I wouldn't have let him otherwise," Hermione assured him in a strained murmur, feeling her stomach clench uncomfortably as some indefinable sense of thrill shot up her abdomen as Lucius insinuated himself carefully over her, close enough to touch her, but always a hairsbreadth away.

"And how can I trust you, Miss Granger, when you have already proved capable of betrayal, Hmm?" Lucius drawled quietly as he bent his head nearer to her, making Hermione's pulse race as she couldn't flex backwards any further. For a moment, all she could hear was the thundering pace of her own heart as her body froze in rigid anticipation, dreading yet yearning for something to happen as Lucius' eyes bore into her. Her chest felt horribly constricted as she held her breath, afraid to move for fear of setting alight the most forbidden of all things that hungered deep inside…

"How can I live when you have made me tormented beyond all things?" Lucius said in a tense whisper, his cool breath falling on Hermione's parted lips as she struggled to draw in air.

"I have seen many things in my life, but you have made me see something that is blinding me," he continued, his voice dropping to the lowest of pitches as he remained leaning slightly over her, never touching her despite his unbearable closeness. Air came to Hermione in short, frantic breaths that quickened at feeling his fingers brush against hers as she gripped the back of the couch tightly.

"Black is dangerous, Miss Granger. He will use you, just as he is using me," Lucius murmured as he tilted his head a scarce few degrees to observe her with an air of deep curiosity.

"He will destroy you in all your goodness," he said with a slight shake of his head, his face close enough for Hermione to spot the barely visible flecks of blue tinting his steel grey eyes as he gazed at her with some unfamiliar emotion colouring his view.

"He's only a boy, Lucius. He's never had the chance to live. I don't want him to be let down again," Hermione breathed back in a brave attempt to remain unaffected by his overpowering dominance.

"He had his time. There are reasons why we do not raise the dead, Miss Granger," Lucius murmured as he slowly pulled his head away, frowning as he raised an impulsive hand to gently take hold of a few stray curls from her wild mane of hair and tuck it behind her ear. A shudder passed through Hermione as she felt his cool fingers skim the outer curve of her ear and she tried to keep her mind from wandering as something in the pits of her being swooped in juddering exhilaration.

"Please…" she beseeched him in a hushed breath as she felt him slowly lean away, the space that grew between them filling with a sudden coldness. "Give him a chance."

"Chances are fraught with risks," Lucius murmured grimly as he stood back and levelled his shoulders while gazing at her unswervingly, "and this chance has too many to be worth the endeavour."

Hermione slowly straightened up as she stared at him, trying to fathom what was going through his mind that made him so unpredictable. Looking up into his unreadable eyes, she wondered if he spoke and acted out of the need to get what he wanted, or if it was possible that he was being sincere. They had sparred with biting words and perilous emotions, and Lucius had tried physical intimidation, but Hermione realised that none of it had been able to prevent the concern that arose in both of them when quietude settled over them. She wasn't able to decide whether he was warning her off Regulus out of a sense of duty or personal feelings, but whatever it was, she was sure of his intentions as being the best for her. He had said several confusing confessions, but amidst the bewildering blend of barely-restrained emotions, Hermione knew that she had never doubted Lucius' honour even for a moment.

"I suppose you are unwilling to give up on Black," Lucius said in reluctantly resignation, his even voice breaking the silence hovering uneasily between them.

"Yes," Hermione replied simply with a small nod.

"Perhaps you will find it difficult to understand what I am trying to tell you, but… I am worried about what he can do to you," Lucius admitted quietly as he fixed her with a firm look.

"He won't do anything. He might be angry right now, but he's got a good heart and I don't doubt his integrity," Hermione said resolutely as she defended her latest cause.

"He has already spread doubt between us," Lucius objected in forced calm as his eyes never left her face.

"He was only trying to do what he thought was best for the situation," Hermione argued back lightly, wanting Lucius to see what she could see.

"Is that what you truly believe?" Lucius asked quietly with barely a movement of his lips.

"Yes, it is," Hermione affirmed confidently as she looked him straight in the eye. "I – I want to see what Regulus can do for us. He might be able to help in a way no one else can. He's the one who gave me the idea of Bellatrix having unintentionally made a Halfcrux in me, and I have a feeling he might be the only one to know how to undo it all."

"Very well," Lucius conceded before clearing his throat. "If that seems to be the right thing for you, then I am willing to be led."

Hermione looked at him with surprise, taken aback by his swift surrender to her impulses. Lucius never struck her as someone who readily gave up to anyone, and his quiet retreat had her caught off-guard. She couldn't find words to speak for several moments as she stared at him in open puzzlement, unable to hide her bewilderment at his volatile moods and behaviour. He had never appeared more accepting, and a part of Hermione wondered if she might have said something to upset him into being indifferent. Still, she was touched at his willingness to comply to her wishes, and supposed that he had to trust her at least a little to blindly hand her the reins…

"What is it that is tormenting you?" she asked abruptly, having remembered his perplexing allusions from before.

Lucius gave a hint of sardonic smile as he shook his head slightly and said, "It is nothing for you to be concerned over."

"It must be something if it's bothering you enough to make you talk about it," Hermione reasoned as she came forwards to get his attention, having seen him look away in disinclination. She waited patiently as Lucius turned back to face her with a look of muted discomfort as he paused to think over what he might say before he opened his mouth to speak.

"The truth is bothering me, Miss Granger. I have never felt something to be so inconveniencing as that."

"You wouldn't be the only one," Hermione assured him with a slight, rueful smile. "I think we all want to run from it when we can."

"Indeed."

"I hope you're not too angry at me for all this?" Hermione asked hesitantly as she made a small, vague gesture with her hand. Lucius looked at her silently for a few seconds with piercing focus, but she could detect nothing about him that spoke of his burning rage.

"My anger was never directed at you," he stated eventually, his pale face appearing quite expressionless as he continued. "Black, maybe. Perhaps this situation, the world at large, or even life in general, but...never at you."

"Oh… Well, that's – er – good," said Hermione, feeling somewhat awkward at his odd confession. "I felt so terrible, keeping you in the dark."

"I come from the dark, Miss Granger. It would be nothing new to remain there," Lucius answered indifferently as he spared her a glance before looking away in occupied thought. Seeing him so uncaring of his fate spurred Hermione into impulsively stepping forwards to close the short gap between them, drawing his attention to her as she tentatively raised her hands to lightly place them on the lapels of his black robes.

"I don't think you realise just how far away from that darkness you are," she told him as she had to angle her head back to catch his unmoving gaze. "You're not as bad as you say you are, Lucius, believe me."

"I have done many unforgivable things –"

"And you're paying for them, aren't you?" Hermione interrupted as she tapped her fingers against his chest to emphasise her words. Lucius looked as though he was about to say something, when he decided otherwise and closed his mouth.

"Maybe the rest of the world won't know it, but I know who you can be," murmured Hermione as she gently patted him. "I don't think you're any darker than the rest of us. Different, maybe, but not worse."

Lucius appeared to be somewhat speechless as he regarded her with eyes that had widened a fraction in muted surprise. Hermione simply smiled up at him understandingly, feeling the cumbersome weight of guilt lifting as she relieved herself of the thoughts she had kept to herself up till then. Her satisfaction quickly morphed into anxiety as she saw a muscle leap in Lucius' strong jaw as he glanced away in tense agitation, causing her to wonder if she had angered him in some way. She opened her mouth with the intention of asking him what she had done wrong, when he turned back to her and abruptly raised a hand to her face to lightly touch her cheek before he lowered it and clenched his hands to form hard fists.

"I have always been living behind masks to hide myself from the world. It was only when Draco was young that I could be myself, but that was many years ago, and I feel I may have forgotten who I am," said Lucius in a quiet voice as his eyes swivelled to settle on Hermione's face. "You have caused me to change and restore myself to what I am meant to be, and for that, I am grateful."

Hermione sighed contentedly as she took courage and reached up to gently caress the angular line of his jaw. Lucius closed his eyes briefly at her touch, his lips thinning a little as he drew in a sharp breath through his nose. Hermione enjoyed the soothing satisfaction of the warm moment before Lucius opened his eyes and lifted a hand to gently but firmly remove hers from his face.

"It is in your best interests that you keep your distance, Miss Granger," he said smoothly as he lowered their joined hands and lightly stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "Keep yourself safe."

Hermione opened her mouth to make a reply, but was surprised into a loss for words as Lucius released her hand to signal silence with a subtle gesture of his fingers. A small smile graced his lips for a brief second before he turned away and left the room in swift, measured strides, his footsteps sounding softly in the hallway as they descended the stairwell. Hermione remained rooted to the spot for a few more seconds as her mind buzzed with confusion, but when her eyes caught sight of the open book he had been reading lying on the desk by the window, she quickly stepped over to it. Approaching the elaborately-decorated pages, she felt a strange feeling of knowing that she would find answers in the book, and didn't hesitate to read the thickly-lettered writing.

The Binding Enchantmente can be undone by the will of the spell-caster or the changeing state of the victim's soule. The enchantmente will break upon the victim reversing the conditions whith which they were cast. A Binding Enchantmente will be severed through unstoppable death, overpowering the originale caster or the victim cultivating the directe opposite of the conditions. A Binding Enchantmente cast in pure adoration will break at complete hatred of the victim's hearte and one cast in black odium will only be undone at the coming of light and love in the victim's soule.

Hermione stared at the passage blankly as the words swam before her eyes. She couldn't quite believe what she was reading, and had to look through the paragraph again several times before the information started to pervade the wall of shock surrounding her mind.

If the dissolving of Lucius' enchantment meant what she thought it meant, life had just got more complicated for both of them.

 

44\. A Price to Pay

Dinner was an awkward affair that night. Hermione did her best to hide all her thoughts and feelings behind the quiet clinking of cutlery and distract herself with the delicious meal Kreacher had kindly cooked for them, but her mind would not stop its murmuring disquiet. She risked a few brief glances at Lucius who was sitting across the table from her and frowned each time as she wondered how he managed to cut himself off from the rest of the world whenever he wished. The wizard was dining with his usual impeccability, although Hermione thought there was a colder rigidity about him than he usually presented.

The silence was becoming unbearably heavy and Hermione was feeling oppressed and smothered by the tension it brought, stirring her into taking the initiative to break the weighty feeling. She looked over at her dinner companion again to try and determine his state of mind, but she could see nothing definable as Lucius continued to slice his ham with delicate, restrained movements.

"Could you pass the salt, please," Hermione said quietly while berating herself for taking the cowardly approach and refusing to take the giant bull by the horns. Lucius said nothing as he paused to set down his fork and pick up the small salt shaker by his plate, handing it over to her with unusually careful movements.

"Thank you," Hermione murmured as she took hold of the porcelain being passed to her and tried not to think too much at feeling Lucius' cool fingers accidentally touching hers in the process. Fighting off the urge to simply cave into the overwhelming silence, she took her time gathering her courage before manoeuvring to lighten the mood, even if only a little.

"I was just wondering, how much do you know about Perssantium's Theory on Transfiguration?" Hermione asked in what she hoped was a convincingly casual manner, anticipating the academic in Lucius to drive him to answer, especially as Transfiguration had apparently been his favourite subject at school.

"More than the average wizard," Lucius replied laconically as he didn't bother meeting her gaze, but continued to carve away at his food.

"I encountered it in a book the other day and there're parts of it that confuses me a bit," Hermione mused in genuine pondering, undeterred by Lucius' obvious display of disinterest.

"I am not surprised. The theory is never taught at school and therefore, the average witch or wizard will never even hear of it."

"How come you know of it?" Hermione asked in sincere inquisitiveness, relieved that making conversation was not proving to be as difficult as she had imagined.

"I am not an average wizard," Lucius replied simply in his guarded, haughty manner, causing Hermione to heave a quiet sigh of dulled exasperation.

"Yes, I already knew that."

"Then you may use your imagination to think just how I may know of the theory," Lucius drawled in an uninspiring tone as he effectively closed off any companionable talk and paid unnecessarily close attention to the last of his dinner. Hermione let the matter drop as she knew imposing niceties on him would only drive him to hiding behind the horrible indifference he was more than capable of and rob her of all human company. It irked her to have him control the situation so thoroughly, but she knew better than to object. Weeks of living under the same roof as Lucius had taught her that she could not win against him by mere force; he was too strong and intelligent for that. From what her own experiences and observations could tell her, however, Lucius was generally more willing to share the victory when she was calm and resourceful, although Hermione had yet to bring him to defeat.

Driven to contemplating the puzzle of the man before her, Hermione made a list in her head of all the details and qualities she knew Lucius to have. He was strong. He was intelligent. He was cynical. He was also ruthless, hard-hearted and cold for much of the time, but Hermione knew that he did still have a heart, even if it was buried deep behind a tangle of iron bars. There was something about Lucius that she thought was utterly fascinating, although she could not decide whether it was the interest one showed at seeing a dead corpse in a freak accident or seeing a truly wondrous sight considered rare to humankind. She supposed there was nothing so noticeably differentiating about his physical form, except that he was tall, pale and had exceptionally white-blond hair, a combination which tended to make him appear quite...striking. Some people could use certain aspects of their physical features to charm and wile their way through life, but Hermione suspected there was much more to Lucius than that.

There was something about his presence that could make her feel either uncomfortably hot or unbearably cold. She did not think him to bear a particularly pleasant aura, but that was what seemed to mesmerize her the most. Hermione had read in various novels how certain characters had a 'strong presence' or could make 'the blood run cold', but she had never realised that it was more than just a literary idiom. She could see proof of those previously unbelievable phrases in the haughty, reserved man finishing his meal opposite her.

"Is there something about my person that you find to be of interest, may I ask?"

Hermione tensed in her seat as Lucius' smooth voice interrupted her thoughts that were bouncing higher and higher in her head. She felt her cheeks grow flushed of their own accord as her body honestly owned up to her embarrassment, which only made her feel doubly self-conscious as Lucius' cool grey eyes glanced over at her somewhat impassively.

"I was just – uh – considering the possibilities of how you might have inherited your...particular complexion. You see, Muggles tend to have this generalisation that people with pale skin and blond hair are often from Nordic origins and some say that they belong to a branch of humanity known as the Aryan race."

Hermione knew she was babbling, but at least she was keeping from telling an all-out lie. She had been thinking about his noticeably pale complexion, and she had been absent-mindedly wondering about the bizarre Muggle concept of how Aryans were destined to rule the world. It all seemed strangely come together and to make sense when looking at someone like Lucius...

"How interesting," Lucius remarked coolly as he dabbed the corners of his mouth carefully with a napkin and set down his cutlery on his empty plate.

"Do you mind if I ask where your family comes from?" Hermione asked tentatively, uncertain of how Lucius would react as she knew family was something he was very proud of, but perhaps he would be unwilling to share that pride with anyone else...

"Originally? England and France. The first real ancestor, Primoris Malfoy, came from England, while his wife, Leticia, was from an ancient line of French pure-bloods."

With much relief and surprise, Hermione noticed the brightening of Lucius' eyes as he welcomed the topic and spoke with ease, allowing her to hope that she might regain the part of his trust she had lost over the matter of Regulus. Realising that he was willing to make some kind of contribution to the conversation if it followed this topic, Hermione prompted him with questions about his lineage, feeling genuinely interested in pure-blood heritage.

"I suppose your ancestors date back to a very long time ago?" she enquired politely as she set down her own cutlery on her finished plate to be taken away by Kreacher.

"The Malfoy line is one of the oldest in the country," Lucius answered with a hint of pride tinting his even voice. Hermione permitted herself a small smile as she was somehow touched by the thought of even malignant wizards like Lucius being greatly involved and concerned with family matters. She always seemed to forget that he was a father as she found it hard to associate him with the affection that was generally expected of a loving parent.

"Do you have siblings?" Hermione asked with a small frown as she couldn't imagine Lucius as being anything but a single child and sole heir to the Malfoy pride.

"There have been no siblings born to my family since the birth of Primoris' second child and daughter, Anevayla."

"No siblings since..." Hermione repeated in disbelief before questions quickly arose in her mind again. "Can I ask why?"

"It is a long story," Lucius drawled with an elegant, dismissive wave of his hand before giving a curt nod of acknowledgement to an admiring Kreacher who had shuffled around to remove his finished dinner implements.

"There's plenty of time," Hermione countered lightly as she gave the stooping house-elf a friendly smile, to which he responded with a twitchy jerk of his head, unable to smile back just yet.

"In that case," Lucius said slowly as he rose from his seat and looked over pointedly towards the armchairs at the other end of the room, "I suggest we make ourselves comfortable."

Hermione followed him with a slight smile as she imagined how she was probably one of the only people in the entire world who was being invited to sit down for a lengthy discussion by Lucius Malfoy. The sheer normalcy of the situation continued to surprise her, as it had never struck her as either normal or possible to encounter and engage Lucius in ordinary happenings. Hermione found it ironic that all the previous times they had met, it had been literally at wandpoint with a burning desire to maim each other, but it was only in lieu of fighting a curse that she and Lucius had finally come together as something other than enemies. Perhaps the most surprising thing about being with Lucius however, was that Hermione actually quite enjoyed his company. It was a bizarre revelation, but somehow, it wasn't all that bizarre at all.

"Where's that elf?" Lucius muttered with a slight twitch of his upper lip as he casually inspected his intended chair like a cautious cat.

"He has a name," Hermione sighed as she carelessly plopped down in a nearby chair and nonchalantly surveyed the cheerful flames dancing in the grate.

"Who?" Lucius asked while cocking a brow, appearing to have not realised that his former words had been heard.

"Kreacher. His name is Kreacher," Hermione stated sombrely as she looked up at him from where she sat with her legs curled up in her cosy armchair.

Ah. The elf," Lucius acknowledged with a slight smile of snide amusement tugging at his lips. Hermione frowned at his perceivable expression, uncertain of his intentions as she judged his mood to be one of cold cynicism. She could not help but tense in surprise at hearing Lucius raise a hand to snap his fingers loudly and barely had time to be confused before it all became clear as Kreacher scurried over in a hobbling gait.

"Master Malfoy is wanting something?" the house-elf croaked eagerly, his sycophantic zeal causing Hermione to feel both saddened and outraged. Her indignation was only further fuelled at having Lucius' grey eyes locking gazes with her as he addressed the dutiful creature who was loyal without reason.

"Fetch me the whisky and a glass."

"Kreacher would be honoured," Kreacher announced hoarsely as he gave a low bow and scuttled off again to bang around the kitchen cupboards in search of the desired items. For a brief moment, Hermione thought she was angry at Lucius as she couldn't bear seeing him turn away wearing a slight smirk on his face as though the pitiful elf was entertaining. However, before her fury could escalate, she took a few slow breaths and managed to contain her feelings in a well-placed glower as she spoke to the back of Lucius.

"He's here to help us and look after us, and you go and abuse his enthusiasm. Why would you do that?"

"Because I can," Lucius answered simply as he finally lowered himself into his chair and took his time settling in it, seemingly wishing to ignore anything of a deeper nature and showing the side of himself that Hermione wasn't so familiar with. She was accustomed to his drawling voice and aristocratic mannerisms that tended to appear in his less serious moments, but she rarely ever glimpsed the Lucius Malfoy that had graced the world in his previous life as a Ministry official. She had despised that man; she could still remember the time when she had gone to the Quidditch World Cup with the Weasleys and they had accidentally encountered the entire Malfoy family, all cool and condescending. Draco had been his usual sneering self; Narcissa had just stared at them with her beautiful face turned ugly with disdain; Lucius had...well, Hermione could still recall that horribly withering look the Malfoy patriarch had given them. She could even remember embarrassing herself with a blush that had inadvertently flared at feeling his sharp eyes briefly lingering on her.

It all seemed like a lifetime ago. Hermione now had trouble connecting that Lucius Malfoy with the one sitting a mere few yards away from her; things had changed that much. She never ceased to be amazed by how a pure-blood supremacist had somehow come to be sharing a house with her, a fiercely stubborn and proud Muggle-born. Thinking about it could be somewhat confusing, and she decided it was better to stick with the present, at least for the moment.

"Just because you have a certain power, it doesn't mean you should use it like that," Hermione said firmly as she chanced a glance at Lucius, feeling prickled at the sight of him practically lounging in his chair with a slightly careless and arrogant attitude.

"When I have power, I use it how I see fit," Lucius drawled simply as he crossed his legs loosely, the firelight glinting off his polished, black brogue-like shoes.

"And that is presumably why everything went wrong," Hermione muttered in a half-hearted attempt to keep the snappish remark to herself, although she had a strong feeling that Lucius had heard every word.

"Didn't anybody tell you, it is dangerous to presume?" Lucius said in a light tone as he absent-mindedly tapped a long finger on the arm of his chair. Hermione made no answer, trying to distract her fuming mind by watching Kreacher returning to Lucius with a dark bottle and glass tumbler in his bony hands.

"You shouldn't drink so much," Hermione said flatly after Kreacher had disappeared with another deep bow and a crack of Apparition, watching disapprovingly as Lucius poured himself a generous measure of Firewhisky.

"And you, Miss Granger, should learn not to order your superiors about," Lucius retorted calmly before taking a large sip of his drink, his eyes fluttering closed as he swallowed the burning liquid.

"Superior?" Hermione questioned with narrowed eyes, unsure of what he was directly alluding to, but not liking the sound of it all the same.

"I am older than you and have lived through enough to be deserving of a drink," Lucius told her without appearing the slightest bit uncomfortable, although Hermione knew that he had picked up on her frowning concern.

"But you drink every day, and it isn't even just a glass or two," Hermione countered in something akin to a complaint, wishing to retract her words as she thought she sounded rather too whiny for her own good.

"Really, Miss Granger, I advise you to use your overly-generous concern on the more significant matters of the world. What happened to house-elf rights? I was certain that you were going to bombard me with some bombastic tirade on such nonsense," Lucius murmured languidly as he held his glass of drink a little way out before him and eyed it with contemplative scrutiny.

"It's not nonsense, and nothing is too insignificant for my concern."

"Well, that makes one of us," the blond wizard muttered dispassionately as he drew his hand back and lifted his glass to his lips to drink. Hermione watched grimly as Lucius rapidly finished his first glass and refilled it to make it a second without missing a beat. There was something both surprising and saddening about the way he could vanish the intoxicating liquid down his throat, and Hermione had a feeling that drinking was not a habit that Lucius had picked up while being involved with her. Perhaps he did drink a little more frequently than he might have done, simply because of the stress brought on by the need to take time to adjust to the alien situation, but it seemed to be a much more long-standing habit.

"I didn't know people like you drowned their miseries in drink," Hermione said sceptically as she eyed the dark, amber liquid that was swiftly diminishing in Lucius' glass.

"People like myself? Whatever do you mean," Lucius asked with a twitch of his arching eyebrow before he glanced away impartially towards the fire.

"You're a pure-blood, and isn't the great pride of being a pure-blood to do with upholding your perfect image?" Hermione pointed out a little defiantly, although she felt her boldness faltering at having Lucius' cold eyes fix unblinkingly on her.

"You have no idea of what you speak," Lucius murmured quietly in a tone of veiled deadliness.

"You always say that," Hermione grumbled gracelessly, fully aware of how childish her words came out, but feeling too inwardly riled up to bother making any changes.

"I merely repeat the truth," Lucius answered somewhat indolently, his menace having disappeared as swift as it had come.

"The truth. I barely remember what it's supposed to mean when it comes to you, Lucius," Hermione admitted darkly as she glanced over at her erstwhile enemy, trying to work out which parts of him were lying and which were telling the truth. She thought he flinched a little when she used his first name, but her curiosity was only further piqued at seeing him hide whatever emotions he was feeling under an impassive mask.

"Why not make life easier for yourself and stop worrying over such things, Miss Granger?" Lucius eventually sighed out as he leaned back into his comfortable seat and eyed his empty glass.

"Why not make things easier for yourself and stop running from the past?" she fired back in quick retort, feeling apprehensive as Lucius' expression grew hard.

"I have never run away from anything. It is the past that is avoiding me," Lucius murmured very quietly as he stared off into the leaping flames of the hearth, tight lines having formed around his narrowed eyes in betrayal of his inner anger. Hermione thoughtlessly nibbled her lower lip in rising worry as she studied his sullen form and wondered what was passing through his elusive mind. She watched as a muscle leapt in his clamped jaw, the fingers of his left hand gripping the arm of his chair while those of his right slowly tightened around the empty tumbler he was holding, making Hermione anticipate the fatal moment when the glass would break.

"I know of the high prices that are to be paid for what I have done," Lucius confessed in a barely audible voice as he continued to gaze blankly into the fire. "I have tried to go back and undo the changes I wrought in my lifetime, but always, fate escaped me. I have already made several of these payments, and it is only a matter of time before I will have to surrender my entire being in exchange for mercy upon my family."

Hermione looked on silently as his pale face grew worn and troubled in the firelight. It was always somehow shocking for her to see Lucius morph into a mask that was much closer to his heart and soul, and she found herself unduly disturbed by the glimpse of a broken spirit amidst the rattling armour. He had never appeared so humbled in all the time she had been with him, and Hermione was not sure she liked to see him like this. It seemed too...uncharacteristic, and it confused her greatly to have her image of the haughty pure-blood transfigure into a portrait of a reluctantly repenting man. His quiet, secretive confessions reduced him into someone Hermione found to be completely different from the Lucius Malfoy the world knew, and it only sprung her worst enemy, uncertainty, on her.

"Upholding a perfect image... That almost cost me the life of my son," Lucius murmured at length, his avoidance of Hermione leading her to question just whom he was talking to. "There is no honour in that."

There was a sharp sound of glass cracking and Hermione couldn't quite prevent the little yelp that left her lips at seeing Lucius' tense fist curl fiercely around the shattering shards, thin trails of blood beginning to run down over the ridges of his clenched fingers. Leaping up from her seat without hesitation, Hermione hurried over to him while simultaneously Summoning the box of first aid materials she knew Molly had left in the kitchen cupboards from the days of the war.

"You've done it again," Hermione reprimanded her self-appointed patient as she crouched down to the side of his legs, feeling cross for no particular reason she could define. Last time he had shattered a glass in uncontrolled anger, Hermione had been in near hysterics from an unusual overload of emotions brought on by the unfamiliar state of being cursed, but this time, she merely felt frustrated, both at Lucius and on his behalf.

"Why do you bother trying to be all honourable and dignified?" Hermione demanded waspishly as she carelessly ripped open the tin box that had arrived at her side and grabbed a roll of bandage. "I don't see much point in any of it if it means you have to make an unnecessary amount of personal sacrifice."

Lucius gave no answer as she raised her wand to non-verbally cast some spells to clean up the blood and close the open cuts, pursing her lips as she channelled her irked energy on healing his injuries just enough to keep the blood from flowing out, but a little short of wholly healed to let him be reminded by the nagging pain. Hermione unwound a length of dressing before taking his relaxed fingers in one hand to flatten his palm, and winding the bandage around the affected areas with a touch more roughness than her usual intent. She noticed Lucius wincing slightly at her ruthless handling, but she ignored his discomfort and only leaned back on her haunches when she was satisfied with her task.

"There. I hope that reminds you not to break any more glasses," Hermione said sternly as she eyed the bandaged hand that was slowly flexing as Lucius tested how versatile his wand hand could be when bound by material.

"You are such a strange one," Lucius murmured as he gazed down at his hand, then at Hermione, his eyes mercilessly pinning his sharp scrutiny on her.

"Is that an unusual way of expressing your gratitude?" Hermione asked in a blurred mixture of uncertainty and cynicism. She was not all that surprised when Lucius ignored her little query and instead, leaned down slightly to peer at her closer, giving her the rising desire to shuffle away from where she kneeled by his feet. She barely resisted the urge to hastily retreat as she held her breath and watched Lucius tilt his head in apparent intrigue and calculation.

"What was the profession of your paternal grandfather?"

The question caught Hermione completely unaware and her mind went completely blank for several seconds as his unexpected words rang uselessly through her head. For one long moment, she wondered if she had heard him right. Lucius Malfoy? Asking about my grandfather?

"I suppose he was a man of some profession or other?" Lucius prompted with a hint of arrogance as he stared down his nose at Hermione and frowned slightly.

"He was – he was a soldier," Hermione managed to say, having sufficiently recovered from her astonishment to answer his odd question.

"A soldier?"

"He fought in a war. The Great War."

"As in...?" Lucius asked, appearing strangely fascinated.

"Oh, of course. Not the war that we know," Hermione added, having realised that Lucius probably did not know of Muggle conflicts. "There were two Great Wars in Muggle history. He fought in the second one."

"And just whom was he fighting for, and who against?" Lucius prompted in clipped tones, his eyes having narrowed a fraction, making it hard for Hermione to tell whether he was scornful or genuinely interested. However, after a brief second of thought, she supposed that there could be no harm in telling him a little about her family, seeing as he had already shared something from his side.

"He was a captain in the air force – they fight in these Muggle things called aeroplanes that are a bit like the equivalent of a broom – and he fought for Britain against Germany."

It occurred to Hermione then, that it was strange to be talking about Muggle-related objects and subjects after a long time of virtual abstinence from Muggle living, a fact that was only heightened in its bizarreness by the listener of her explanations being none other than Lucius. She had roughly explained aeroplanes to Mr Weasley once during one of the summers she had spent at the Burrow, but it was almost laughable to think that she was now doing the same with Mr Malfoy.

"Germany?" Lucius asked with a raised brow, bringing Hermione out of her digressing train of thoughts.

"Um, yes."

"Was there any particular reason why Germany was the opposition in this conflict?"

"I'm surprised you haven't heard of it; it was such a huge thing in the world at the time. I'd have expected even the wizarding world to know at least vaguely of it..." Hermione mused aloud with a note of surprise that quickly faded as Lucius spoke again, his words bringing some sense to the situation.

"What year was this war?"

"Oh, from 1939 to 1945."

"Ah. I would have been barely an infant by the year it finished," Lucius remarked drily. "Forgive me for having to endlessly pursue this particular point with you, but I must remind you that the wizarding world have never been keen followers of the happenings of the Muggle world, and I doubt you will find many wizards who have been told about this conflict from the past generation. We have never been particularly fond of reciting Muggle history to our progeny."

"Yes, well, that would make sense," Hermione conceded grudgingly as she slowly sat down on the floor, too busy thinking to remember that her armchair awaited her. Besides, she preferred her current seating, as the warmth from the fire could be felt greater and almost completely drove away the wisps of cold that slunk around at ankle-height.

"And these Germans... What was wrong with them that Britain had to go to war?" Lucius continued, surprising Hermione even more with his interest that did not seem to be deriving from the wish to mock Muggles. He actually sounded as though he truly wished to know.

"Well, the Germans at that time were being run by a political party called the Nazi party, who had a terribly horrible leader..." Hermione tailed off as she realised the intense similarities between the conflicts of the wizarding world and the Muggle. Now that she thought about it, the Nazis did not seem that different from the Death Eaters, and Hitler...

"Oh, no... I can't believe it," she murmured absent-mindedly as she thought over the fascinating coincidence, beginning to think that perhaps she had been wrong in making assumptions about Hitler and his crazy organisation. She had learnt from Muggle books that the whole business with the Third Reich was abominable, which it was, but maybe the people involved in the horrific tearing of humanity could not be put to blame entirely. If she could now empathise with Lucius for all he did in the previous wizarding wars, she supposed that her understanding would have to spread to encompass all things, both evil and benign.

"Tell me, were these...Nazis anything at all similar to what the wizarding world has known?" Lucius enquired eventually, drawing Hermione's gaze up to his pale, expressionless face. A sudden sense of dread filled Hermione as she stared at his sharp, hollowed face, his white-blond hair glimmering a little in the firelight as it lay pulled back with its usual black ribbon. She could almost imagine Lucius in one of those stiff, impeccably-cut uniforms of dark grey, feet wearing glossy black boots and black leather gloves on his fingers. It was barely a stretch in the imagination, and Hermione found herself stalling for words as she thought over the remarkable parallels between the Muggle supremacists and the wizarding supremacists. Despite whatever likes and dislikes that kept the two apart, Hermione could not help but think that they were all the same at the end of the day. They were all human.

"They're all the same," she concluded aloud, barely noticing Lucius frown in puzzlement.

"What are, may I ask?"

"Everyone. Muggle, wizard. They're all the same," Hermione repeated more firmly as the idea truly solidified in her mind. "Why didn't I think it before?"

"Because it is completely unthinkable," Lucius replied curtly, causing Hermione to look up at him blankly, feeling mildly surprised at seeing him still there. "Muggles are Muggles. They are nothing like us."

"From a magical point of view, yes, they're definitely not of the same genes," Hermione agreed in willing acceptance before ploughing on in rising brilliance. "But look at them, and look at us. What's so different about us, excluding our abilities to perform magic?"

"We are of a different intelligence," Lucius replied steadily without a moment of hesitation, his manner having grown cold as they ventured onto unstable ground once again.

"But that doesn't make sense!" Hermione objected as her mind powered on of its own accord. "There are plenty of people in the wizarding world who are of lesser intelligence than Muggles. Have you seen what the Muggles have managed to do to compensate for their lack of magic?"

"I did not say that they are of lesser intelligence. Simply different," Lucius corrected evenly, although Hermione thought she could detect a certain terseness in the way he remained sitting rigidly in his seat.

"What exactly do you mean by different?" Hermione asked with challenge in her tone, eager to hear his theory and be impressed or duly unimpressed by it.

"Firstly, you must bear in mind that it is difficult, even for someone such as myself, to attempt to explain these matters in the way they were first taught," Lucius said in something of a warning as he caught Hermione's eye and gave her a firm look. She gave him a nod of her head to show that she had understood that what he was about to say was only an attempt, and she should not judge everything according to it. He appeared satisfied at her wordless reassurance, for he then took a few low breaths as a pensive look appeared to haunt his face.

"My father once owned a particularly ancient and rare book that he forbid me from going near, ever since I can recall," Lucius began in a slow, steady drawl. "Of course, being only a young boy, I felt the urge that every child feels at being prohibited from something, and I chose an opportune moment to steal the book for perusal in the safety of my own room. I can still remember that particular afternoon; it was late July, I think, and I must have been...perhaps, nine years old. I had been excited at the thought of doing the very thing my father had emphatically forbid, but I was rather surprised to find that the book had nothing in it of a dastardly nature. You can imagine my disappointment at realising that the great risks I had taken in procuring the book had all been for naught. The only reward that was to be found in the pages of that particular volume was something on ancient history or suchlike, which was enough to deter my interest at the time."

Hermione listened in rapt enthrallment as Lucius' surprisingly melodious voice set her imagination alight and conjured all sorts of visions in her mind. The forbidden book with its old, dusty cover, sitting temptingly on a shelf for a young boy to pilfer; the boy slipping away to his own room to flip open the book with a triumphant air... The only thing that Hermione noticed to be rather peculiar about these mental images, was that there never seemed to be a face for the boy. Though she assumed Lucius to have looked much like Draco as a child, she could not picture his face as anything other than she knew it as now. It was a somewhat disturbing feeling; she simply could not envision Lucius as anything other than what he was, let alone a child.

"Of course, once my father died, the book came under my ownership," Lucius continued at length, drawing Hermione's attention to solely focus on him. "It was barely in my interest to read it then, but out of lingering curiosity, I happened to peruse the book once more. It was only after reading the entire contents that I realised why it had been banned in my childhood."

Lucius fell silent as he went about repairing the broken tumbler and pouring himself another dram of Firewhisky, much to Hermione's disappointment and annoyance. However, she reasoned that this time, his drinking was mildly justified, as she had a strong feeling that he would not be talking about any of this, were he strictly sober. With that thought in mind, she simply held her uneasy peace through slightly gritted teeth as she waited for him to forget himself again. Her impatience lurked restlessly in the background, but when Lucius continued to hold his silence, Hermione could not help voice her unbearable curiosity.

"What was the book about?"

Her voice, though controlled and fairly quiet, seemed to mildly startle Lucius, who had been staring pensively past her and into the fire. At Hermione's prompting question, his light grey eyes appeared to grow a few shades darker as he looked down at her with careful contemplation.

"The similar ancestry of wizards and Muggles," Lucius answered eventually in a flat tone, much to Hermione's surprise.

"You can imagine my surprise," he added with a mirthless smile.

Hermione looked up at his face with a slight frown, trying to determine what was going through Lucius' mind as he hid everything behind an impassive expression. Although she knew of his views that were so different from hers, she somehow found it difficult to decide what he might have felt at reading such an obviously controversial book. Her indecision was mainly due to the acknowledgement of Lucius' intelligence; he was as perspicacious as they came, but how he managed to believe in such hideously biased views baffled Hermione completely.

"Of course, I had the book removed from my possession as I could not risk Draco finding it and being swayed by whatever notions that incongruous author had written," Lucius explained thoughtfully. "It would have been far too dangerous, what with the Dark Lord so nearby. He would have sensed Draco's vulnerability and hesitation, and Merlin knows it would have killed me to see my own son condemned for having the daring to think beyond what was taught him."

"Did you still believe in it all though? After reading that book?" Hermione queried, curious to know if Lucius' perspective had been altered at all by a logical explanation.

"I cannot say I did or did not," Lucius replied somewhat nonchalantly as he studied the remaining drink in his repaired glass. "Can one truly admit belief or distrust in something that is one's own life? What would there be for me, if I were to acknowledge myself to have been in the wrong. My entire life would have been a waste."

"I don't think so," Hermione told him in murmured reassurance. "I don't think that's true at all. There's no shame in acknowledging being in the wrong."

"Perhaps that is so for people such as yourself, Miss Granger," Lucius said with a slight sneer before his expression smoothed out into its previous emptiness. "But for one such as myself, shame would have been the kindest of costs."

Hermione watched him lose himself in thought, all the while pondering the subject of his mindset. Did he still dislike Muggles? Did he still believe pure-bloods were better? Does he still dislike me? She could not quite decide what his attitude was; everything had been distorted beyond recognition upon embarking on the adventure of breaking an unknown curse. Besides, the drinking of alcohol seemed to be warping things all the greater, and Hermione was certain that Lucius was slowly, slowly shedding a piece of his tight armour as he loosened up ever so slightly. She still did not think inebriation was the way forwards, but she could not help but admit that it had to be doing a sliver of good as Lucius was relieving himself a little of his guilt.

"Do you ever feel guilty for what you did?" she asked him quietly, gazing into his eyes unflinchingly as he stared at her.

There was a terse silence before Lucius spoke with a slight shrug, "I do not know."

"I suppose your pride doesn't allow you to own up," Hermione sighed in a voice barely above a whisper as she turned to watch the fire. "They say pride is one of the greatest sins."

"Pride may be a sin, Miss Granger, but it has never been a misdemeanour that I have been ashamed of," Lucius drawled in the archetypal haughtiness, his tone sounding more patronising than Hermione would have expected from his position.

"I guess there's not much point talking about good and bad with you. It doesn't help that neither of us believe in what the other thinks," Hermione concluded in reluctant defeat.

"I cannot see why you insist of dividing the world into two opposites. Your vision must be very bland, looking through black and white," Lucius countered smoothly.

"Well, alright, maybe it isn't all about only good and evil. But I don't – I don't really understand..." Hermione confessed with a deep frown. "How did someone as clever as you ever believe in something like the pure-blood values?"

Lucius' lips curved in a small smile that appeared frighteningly genuine, only confusing Hermione even more.

"Intelligence is not the basis of moral direction, Miss Granger. It has taken me years to realise this, but living through sheer acumen does not necessarily mean one knows everything."

Hermione remained silent as she let the matter rest, willing to accept his words rather than cause a fuss with her vibrant objections. She was tired of always fighting for something and simply wanted to let the world pass by without her interference. It was obvious to her that her state of lethargy would not last long, as she knew herself to be too attached to the humanity's welfare to allow anything that was within her reach to go wrong, but there could hardly be any harm in just letting it all go for a few moments. It had been a while since she had enjoyed any company, and she was feeling determined to make the most of what she could get, even if it meant Lucius Malfoy.

Glancing over to him, she could see he had stopped drinking, and she was pleased to see that he was levitating the glass and near-empty bottle of Firewhisky over to the long kitchen table with a careful movement of his wand. She watched as the slight frown of concentration that was creasing his brow smoothed out as he turned back to wallow in the peaceful silence. Normally, Hermione would feel belittled and uncomfortable sitting near his feet as his constant superiority complex would have laid pressure on her. Now, however, she really could not care less. Lucius was being agreeable enough, sitting quietly in his chair without any sign of wanting to disturb her, and she was actually rather content to sit by his feet, absent-mindedly admiring his well-polished shoes.

Studying his fastidious dress sense reminded Hermione of her own lack of finery, and for a brief moment, she felt a tremor of self-consciousness as she wondered what her wild hair was doing. The feeling passed however, as she firmly told herself that her appearance had nothing to do with anything of importance and besides, it wasn't as thought Lucius would care one way or another. Looking up into his face, Hermione realised with mild alarm that Lucius was watching her, his eyes half-hidden under his slightly lowered lids that made him appear languidly pensive.

She blushed, unable to hold her defiance against his curiously sultry gaze that made Hermione feel suddenly nervous and awkward. Her discomfort only grew as Lucius said nothing, his eyes simply fixed on her in an unfathomable expression. Under his relentless watch, Hermione felt her skin beginning to prickle with some indefinable sensation that was not particularly pleasant. Her fingers began to lightly tap the floor in uncomfortable agitation as she became restless, reaching up with one hand to self-consciously tuck a curl of hair behind her ear to give herself something to do. Still, those hawk-like grey eyes remained trained solely on her, and Hermione was uncertain on what to do. Should she ignore him? Acknowledge him? Say something? Touch that gleaming shoe of his just as she wanted to?

She almost choked on that last question that popped up in her mind and ambushed her conscience, completely baffled by where the idea had come from. It was true; she did like the shiny, pointed shoes that Lucius wore so often, but it seemed absurd to take her admiration to such a tabooed level.

But it's not like I've never touched him before... No, that's just silly. I was being stupid then. I'm not going to go near him. He'd only get angry...

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

Hermione glanced up sharply at hearing his drawl, immediately dashing to appear unbothered as a barely-noticeable smile turned up the corners of Lucius' thin lips.

"No," she lied in a firm tone, wanting to appear strong and unaffected by his prominent presence.

"Good. I would not want you to feel yourself to be at unease," Lucius said with a slight incline of his head while Hermione looked at him with some confusion. In their previous debating conversation, she had managed to forget about his condition of being freed from the Binding Enchantment and the fact that he had been liberated in a circumstance that she would rather not think about...

"You fascinate me, Miss Granger," Lucius stated somewhat bluntly in his even voice, his eyes having never left her. "You are so very interesting."

"I'm surprised you think so," Hermione said in guarded reply, adding a little frostiness to her tone to keep them both at a safe distance from each other. "I didn't think you would ever bother with those who you consider to be lesser than you."

"My dear, are we still on the subject of blood purity?" Lucius said with a deliberated sigh. "I had thought that matter to be rather clear by now."

"Yes, well..." Hermione replied, a little flustered by something in his lazy voice. "I just don't understand how you can be so unfeeling of other people."

"On the contrary," Lucius interjected smoothly, "I believe I am far from it. I would even go so far as to describe myself as being very perceptive of other people's emotions."

"Yes, but there's a difference between being aware of them and caring about them!"

"Why should I concern myself with something that is not my own?" Lucius countered in haughty nonchalance while Hermione felt all the frustration that was hiding inside her re-emerge in a rising ripple of ire.

"Because that's what makes you a decent human being! Being able to be conscious and concerned for other people!" Hermione exclaimed with a vigorous wave of her hand, leaving herself a little breathless from her sudden outburst. Staring hard at Lucius, she could see that he had dropped all pretences of aristocratic loftiness, and was now gazing at her with a steely look.

"It would frighten you to know what I am conscious of, Miss Granger," he murmured so quietly, that Hermione only just caught his words that the crackle of the blazing fire threatened to drown out. She hesitated for a brief second as she mulled over the actions available to her before she decided to throw caution to the wind and sacrifice dignity for the satisfaction of helping another human being. Rising to stand on her feet, she took the few steps forward to bring her to stand directly before Lucius, looking down at his impassive face with a racing pulse. She was not quite sure what she was planning to do to convince him of her willingness to help, and ended up simply standing there without a clue on what to do. She took a sharp intake of breath as a larger hand suddenly grasped her own, pushing her into surprise as Lucius gazed up at her unblinkingly.

"What is it about you that makes you so different from the others?" he murmured musingly with barely a movement of his lips while Hermione felt her ears thrum with the pounding of her quickened pulse. "What is it that makes you so...unique?"

Hermione swallowed hard as she remained frozen rigid with his hand encasing hers in a firm yet careful hold, his whispered curiosity setting her alight with a different kind of fear than that she was familiar with. A kind of fear that was terrifying, thrilling, bewildering, exciting...

"Why is it that I remember you, when I can remember no one else in my dreams?" Lucius said in a barely audible whisper as his fingers loosened around her hand until he eventually let go of her, leaving Hermione's skin feeling strangely cold.

"I barely know you as anything other than the girl who bested my son at school and as a friend of Harry Potter," Lucius continued, sounding as though he was talking more to himself than to anyone else. "So then, what is this madness?"

Madness? What madness?

Hermione remained completely motionless as she stared at Lucius in bewilderment, uncertain of what exactly he was referring to. She regarded him with cautious concern as he passed a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes momentarily squeezed shut. A moment later, his pale lashes fluttered open to reveal his hardened, narrowed grey eyes that flickered up to look at Hermione in a slightly reproachful manner.

"Go to bed, Miss Granger."

Hermione was taken aback by the abruptness of his flattened voice, his abnormal lack of politeness making her uncertain of his mood. He had never been quite so domineering or blunt in his demeanour towards her before, and his sudden change puzzled her.

"Is everything alright?" she asked a little tentatively as she did not move from where she stood before him warily. When Lucius made no reply but gazed off into the fire with what appeared to be disinterest, Hermione timidly reached out to tap him lightly on the hand and was a little startled to feel him stiffen and move his arm away. She tried not to take his retreat as a personal vendetta against her, but she could not help feeling somewhat hurt by Lucius' sudden decision to despise her.

"Do not be concerned for me," Lucius told her in a slightly hollow voice as he avoided looking at her before he added a little softly, "Please."

Hearing that single word put Hermione in greater inner turmoil than she had been at already, and she found herself being torn in many directions. She was still marginally frustrated at him for riling her up so easily, but she found it hard to dislike him when he was obviously struggling to comprehend whatever emotions he was experiencing. Pity was playing a great part in Hermione's sentiments, but she did not think that that was the only feeling plucking at her heartstrings. She was overly curious about Lucius' dreams, feelings and thoughts. She wanted to know what it meant when the book on Binding enchantments had spoken of light and love coming into the victim's soul. It could not be as simple as it sounded; Hermione knew it would be horrendously fantastical and possibly very frightening to have Lucius suddenly become a pious, kind-hearted man with nothing but love and benevolence for the world. No, that would never be Lucius.

Still, seeing him sitting somewhat miserably in his chair was enough to make Hermione worry. Proud wizards like Lucius rarely ever lost themselves in desolation, let alone losing their composure so obviously. Hermione knew that something was going very wrong for Lucius as his moods had become sporadic and unpredictable in the last hour or so, and he was not making any noticeable effort to hide his pensive depression.

Feeling a sudden urge to reciprocate the comfort he had unwittingly given her with his unwavering presence in the past, Hermione wordlessly knelt down at his feet to lay her hands reassuringly on his knee and rest her head on the arm of the chair. Nervous anticipation shivered up her spine as she waited for Lucius to make a cutting remark or move away, but her racing heartbeat began to fall steady again as moments passed and nothing happened. Hermione thought she heard him give a slightly louder exhale in some unfathomable reaction, but she pushed away all her doubts as she let her eyes drift close and she lightly rested her forehead on her hands.

A slight sigh escaped her when she felt a hand gently touching her hair, unintentionally pulling a little as fingers slowly entwined in the wild strands. It felt indescribably comforting to have a steady weight to lean against and Hermione found herself gradually arching her neck to press her head closer to the soothing hand. She had a sudden thought of how this must be what it was like for cats and dogs before her rambling thoughts faded into a faint hum in the background. Concentrating on living the moment purely through her senses, Hermione forgot all about how Lucius was supposed to tell her about his family, and how she had got cross at him earlier on for having a relapse of anger. There was nothing to remember when it was simply him and her sitting together, letting the neutralising silence ripple over them.

Letting her legs slowly straighten out to make herself more comfortable, Hermione opened her eyes to stare at Lucius' shoes, barely hesitating before absent-mindedly running a finger along the length of one highly-polished shoe. It was a comforting sight; staring at the shoe, Hermione thought about how it could belong to anybody. There was nothing to identify it as being worn by a particular person, although the spotless gleam of leather did indicate to it being a coveted belonging. She barely noticed how she was focusing entirely on that one shoe, and when she heard a voice interrupt the silence, she jerked a little in surprise.

"I suggest you go to bed."

Startled, Hermione looked up at Lucius to see him gazing at her with a hardened expression on his face. She could see that both his hands were resting on the arms of the chair as they had been before their mutual slip of manners. She was not quite sure what to think, and found her body taking up his suggestion as she wordlessly raised herself back to her feet. Her mind was in some kind of daze and Hermione had a feeling that she was running on autopilot as her emotions were too blurred and confused for her logic to deal with.

"I..." she began to say before tailing off, having realised that she had no idea what to say out of the dozens of things she wanted to voice.

"Miss Granger, just go to bed," Lucius commanded her firmly as he raised the invisible wall between them, raising suspicions in Hermione about his reactions to their unwarranted moment.

"Yes. Fine. Okay, I will," Hermione said in a fluster before she regained some control over her whirring mind, and turned to look at Lucius with a frown. "Were you going to –"

"Please. I need some time alone," Lucius interjected swiftly and ultimately, making it clear to Hermione that he did not want to talk to her any further tonight. Out of common courtesy and respect, she gave a small nod of her head before she began to leave the room, worried that her motion of comfort had changed into something else. She only glanced back at Lucius once she had reached the kitchen door, pausing for a brief moment to study his silhouetted figure in the firelight. The gates of her inner spirit were beginning to collapse as her emotions struggled out of their contained boundary, making Hermione slowly realise that things meant much more than she had originally expected.

Her anxiety pooled inside her as she hurried up to her room, thinking and thinking about everything that had passed between her and Lucius than night. Feeling a wave of stress coming over her, Hermione instinctively sought to analyse the situation to keep her cool as the emotional floodgates opened. She was overly certain that Lucius Malfoy was not the kind of man to find comfort in his fellow human beings easily. Nor was he a particularly open individual who was honest about his feelings. The fact that he had allowed her, no matter how brief, to offer some kind of solace was a bittersweet revelation to Hermione. She was also no fool; she knew it was more than common to have two people intending to seek innocent comfort in each other, but their unpredictable feelings turning it into something more complicated.

This was getting complicated. Hermione knew that whatever had happened between her and Lucius had been unintentional, but she also knew that it was dangerous. She had been relying too much on his aptitude as the ice-man to keep things straight and simple. It had never occurred to her that Lucius might actually want to relieve whatever he had suppressed deep inside himself and inevitably create some kind of bond between them. It was good that he was becoming more and more human, but Hermione now also had a reason to fear it. She knew that the more she tried to help him, the more she would be bound to him, one way or another. After all, that was what generally happened in relationships between human beings...

With such a long trail of complex thought in mind, she settled uneasily into bed.

Two floors below, the light in the kitchen faded and brightened regularly as Lucius slowly paced in front of the mellow fire. He did not bother hiding his frustration as he took steadying steps with hands clenched at his sides, his entire body tense with simmering anger and bewilderment.

He had no idea how things had come to this.

He was a man of plan and control; nothing ever happened to Lucius Malfoy unless he wished for it to happen. The fact that life was going awfully wrong in regards to this rule was not aiding in his rising ire. Many times, Lucius had promised himself that he would do nothing that would change his relationship with his one-time adversaries; he was here to do a job and that was it. Never, had he planned on developing some inane concern for that irresponsible, irritating Granger girl. He could not understand why he was actually feeling something in regards to her; where had his ability to simply shut out his emotions gone? He was a professional man; a man with a tight agenda and no time to spare on fooleries.

A slight snarl of deep frustration left his lips as he halted in front of the hearth and leaned against the mantelpiece. He was furious about something, though he could not tell what exactly that was. It took him a long, agonising moment to realise why this particular tangle of feelings were familiar to him; he had experienced this sense of being powerless before, when the Dark Lord had ruled over Lucius' own house. The situation was much different now, and probably more favourable, but Lucius still loathed the feeling of being helpless and out of control. It only reminded him of weakness, which he could not bear.

Experiencing uncontrollable feelings were a weakness to him, and Lucius hated it, but he found that there was nothing he could do. Nothing, short of ending his own life, which he did not consider to be a valid option in that moment. He could not believe he had actually allowed himself to show so much weakness to someone, let alone Granger. That last detail was enough to make him wish to end his shame somehow, but he could not truthfully deny that he had made a wholly accidental slip.

For some absurd reason that he now could not make sense of, Lucius had permitted himself to throw a little caution to the wind and push his limits. He could remember that strange feeling he had experienced when the Granger girl had sat by his feet with her head resting on his knee; a strange feeling that had made him momentarily wonder what it would be like to respond as any other human might.

He felt like a fool now; what had he been thinking? Lucius Malfoy was no normal man, and he was certainly not low enough to accept the contemptible pity of some girl with a bleeding heart. He was far stronger than that. He was a son of a great family and he had pride. He did not need the sympathy of some backward-thinking Muggle-born who wanted to treat house-elves as though they were equals to wizards. No, he was better than that.

But even as Lucius fought to convince himself of his superiority and high placement in life, he found the horrible truth slipping through his fine net of lies in the form of raw, unimpeded emotions that he could not control. Even as he struggled to tighten his web of empty truths to block out the unwanted light, he could feel the comforting darkness of his past life dissolving with each breath. The vicious conflict that raged inside his confused mind agonised him and troubled him deeply. All his efforts to regain control over himself were lost in the erratic jumble of unfamiliar feelings and wayward emotions, and Lucius barely avoided collapsing into his chair as he sat down.

Holding his head in his hands, he wondered if this broken fate was the heavy price he had to pay for his mistakes.


	20. XX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story belongs to Duco Lacuna.

45\. A Light in the Tunnel

A cold breeze whispering over her bare arms woke Hermione. The unfriendly wind blew sharply across her clammy skin, making her shiver and tug up the bedcovers to shield her from the intangible force. Blinking wearily in the darkness of the room, she guessed that the sun had yet to make an appearance for the new day and it filled her with the desire to wrench it up from wherever it was hiding in order to chase away the hungry shadows that fed off her fears.

Her head ached with a dull, lethargic pain which seemed to be a disagreeable aftermath of yet another nightmare, though she wasn't half as alarmed as she had been during the earlier months of her condition. Knowing that sleep would not be returning to her anytime soon, Hermione reached blindly for her wand that rested on top of her bedside table and wordlessly lit the single candle standing next to it.

In the warm, golden glow of the little flame, the darkness ebbed out of sight in silent reluctance, the haunting shadows and lingering remnants of unsavoury dreams edging away towards the dim walls of the room. Hermione let out a long sigh as she surveyed her surroundings with slightly squinting eyes, mindlessly observing the faded pattern of the soft green wallpaper that lined the walls. While her eyes wandered aimlessly at the mundane view before her, her mind mirrored the action inside her head, where disturbing visions pitched to and fro in disjointed remembrance.

She didn't have to think hard to see the one face she had grown to loathe; Bellatrix was as fresh in her mind as though she had been alive only yesterday. That once-handsome face, now worn and hollowed, continued to sneer at her with all the foul condescension of someone who had only their crumbling pride left to wield in defence. Had it not been for the extremity of the situation, Hermione chanced to think that she might have perhaps pitied the eldest Black sister. Bellatrix was clearly insane, which made it all too easy to lay the blame for her cruelty on her time-warped condition.

The fleeting thought passed quickly away as Hermione realised that the subject would always remain in the safe confines of being purely hypothetical; she would never be able to entirely forgive or forget both Bellatrix and her heinous crimes. Perhaps it was wrong of her to not bother extending attempts of compassion to the dead, but in her defence, she was much better off concentrating on those who were still living. Or at least those who were capable of reacting in accordance to human sanity, regardless of their position in the world of material existence.

A quiet rustle in one darkened corner distracted Hermione from her rambling thoughts, and it was with a sharp dart of alarm that she peered anxiously into the shadows.

"Who's there?" she asked nervously, her head giving a painful throb as she jerked around to glance about the room.

"Me," was the coolly-announced reply as a part of the shadow drew away from the greater mass of darkness and approached the low candlelight, its shape refining into a familiar slim form as it drew near.

"Oh," Hermione breathed in relief as she took in the sight of Regulus, noticing, despite her own flustered state, the striking sullenness of his otherwise fair face. She didn't speak any further as he walked over to her bed with silent steps, but simply watched him and his quiet, cat-like movements as he came to stop by the bedpost at her feet.

The silence continued for a moment as Hermione shuffled up slightly in bed to prop herself up on the pillows, her eyes never leaving Regulus as he leaned against the wooden post, his arms casually crossed across his chest and his figure exuding idle indifference. His dark, observant eyes looked black in the low light, and the sheer intensity with which he studied her made Hermione unduly nervous.

"What?" she couldn't help but say in self-conscious demand as her fingers fidgeted with the bedcovers.

"Nothing," Regulus said carelessly with a half-shrug before raising a pale hand to nonchalantly brush away the stray locks of his dark hair. Hermione felt suddenly uncomfortable as she realised how corporeal he was becoming, and what it would mean for her if it were no longer a mere ghost intruding on her privacy. She tried to reason with herself that Regulus' state of being shouldn't make any real difference to her, but she found it impossible to ignore the matter completely. Right now, it felt unbearably awkward, and she wasn't used to that feeling anymore; she and Lucius tended to pass over any tense moments with a particular nonchalance that both had developed to prevent offense on either side. Regulus, on the other hand, was almost Hermione's age and full of a shyness that haunted the more reticent individuals. His discomfort drew out the same from Hermione as she unconsciously reverted to the way she had been during her adolescence. It was all she could do, not to blush or say something foolish as though she was an awkward teenager once again.

"Um... How are you?" she tried with a weak smile that didn't last long as Regulus directed his deep, sad eyes at her with a prickling coolness.

"As well as anyone can be when they are half-ghost, half-real," Regulus replied dryly, the corner of his lips curling slightly in wry expression. Hermione gave a slow nod, trying to think of what else she might say to prolong her limping effort at conversation. Regulus seemed to notice her dilemma, for he glanced away with a thin smile before turning his face back to her with a blank expression.

"Don't talk if you can't think of anything." The order came out in a strangely earnest manner that lessened the impression on Hermione that he simply wanted her to be quiet. It felt more like he had said it to try and put her at ease, and the very thought of that effort warmed Hermione to him. She did not think it could have been easy for a proud youth such as Regulus to overcome his own ego and be concerned about her state of inner comfort. Being of proud strain herself, Hermione could understand how much was having to be swallowed back to make room for an unfamiliar concern, and it rendered her to look upon him with a new hint of fondness.

"When was the last time you had an ice-cream?" she asked with a smile that widened when Regulus blinked at her and stared with a frown darkening his brow.

"An ice-cream?"

"Yes," Hermione said, feeling a little brighter as she suddenly realised what she wanted to do. She knew that talking of the near past would probably upset her ghostly visitor, but she thought that he might be more favourable towards happier times in his short life. It seemed she had guessed right, for the clouded look on Regulus' pale face slowly lifted and was replaced by a softened expression that made him appear quite handsome in the candlelight.

"Year six, a trip to Hogsmeade on Valentine's Day," he answered thoughtfully, his dark eyes gazing unseeingly at the wall behind Hermione.

"Were you on a date?" she asked with a slight grin as she watched Regulus squirm a little and glance away from her pointedly. She thought he might have even blushed, though it was hard to tell in the dim light and his semi-translucent state.

"There was a girl," he admitted indifferently, his almost weightless form perching at the end of the bed and barely sinking the mattress at all.

"What was her name?" Hermione asked in casual questioning, glad to have the chance of having a light-hearted, meaningless conversation after so many days of unrelenting seriousness.

"Sylvia, I think," Regulus said with a thoughtful frown, clearly having to struggle to remember such details.

"Was she nice?"

Regulus gave a shrug. "Nice enough, I suppose."

"But you weren't really interested in her," Hermione finished for him, noticing that he did not seem interested in the subject.

"I only met with her because she liked me. I don't think I liked her all that much," Regulus explained offhandedly.

"You're a little cavalier, Regulus Black," Hermione teased him with a slight laugh, feeling a strange swoop of delight at seeing his lips quirk in veiled amusement.

"I'm nothing compared to what Sirius was."

"Oh? Was he really that bad?" Hermione asked in mild surprise, though she had always suspected Sirius had been the mischievous kind.

"Sirius was always up to tricks in everything he did. School, family, girls. Everything," Regulus admitted with a somewhat rueful smile as his eyes gazed off into the distance. Hermione watched him as he lost himself in thought, feeling happy at seeing him indulge himself on the more pleasant memories of the past. She could imagine how lonely and dreadful it had been for him, carrying out a secret mission without anyone to either help him or keep him any sort of company.

"Did you like him?" Hermione eventually asked, her voice quiet and pensive.

Regulus blinked himself out of his reverie to look at her with an uncomprehending expression. "He was my brother," he replied simply, seemingly unable to grasp how like or dislike came into any of it.

Hermione suppressed a sigh of exasperation. "Yes, I know. But did you get on well with him?"

There was a short silence, in which Hermione could see Regulus was thinking, his youthful yet aged face drawn in a shaded mask as he tilted his face away from the low candlelight. She studied him carefully, trying to understand the different emotions that flickered in brief flight across his features. When he did finally speak, she noticed how he did not bother masquerading his arrogance any longer.

"He was always good to me, but in that careless, trivial way of his. He had a good sense of humour." Regulus sounded wistful as he spoke, but Hermione saw that he had not completely fallen into the trap of vulnerability. There was also a hard gleam in his eyes as he spoke of his older brother, though what feeling that represented, she could only guess.

"Sirius was a good man," Hermione agreed with a half-sigh. "Sometimes a little thoughtless in his actions, but he was brave and kind."

Regulus smiled wryly. "Only to those he liked."

Hermione did not answer immediately, not knowing quite what to say to that. Certainly, Regulus must know Sirius better than her. She did recognise his point, however, as she had noticed on a few occasions in the past, how Sirius could change the direction of his kindness rather quickly, if he was somehow displeased with someone. She had witnessed it in the conflict between him and Mrs Weasley when the latter had argued against Harry being let into the Order at the age of fifteen. Sirius had been quick to show his resentment towards the older witch, though Hermione was glad that the disagreements had ended not long afterwards.

"I suppose he never treated Kreacher very well," Hermione conceded with a slow nod. Her attention was rapidly caught by Regulus as he sat up a little straighter at the mention of the elf's name, and his eyes seemed to brighten somewhat.

"Kreacher?" Regulus repeated, his voice sounding softer than usual as he glanced towards the closed door. Hermione waited for a few seconds, wondering if he had meant to call Kreacher, or if he was just saying the name of a being who had once been something of a friend to him. When nothing happened, she assumed that either he had not said the name in a command, or that his current state of half-being was interfering with his power to summon his faithful servant.

"He's doing very well," Hermione told him with a gentle smile. "He speaks of you often."

Regulus turned to look at her with surprise. "He does?"

"It's always 'Master Regulus this' and 'Master Regulus that'," she said kindly, wanting to let him know that he was being missed at least by one living thing in the world. Regulus looked thoughtful at her words, his melancholic profile turned towards Hermione as his brow drew together in a pensive frown.

"He was good to me,' he murmured eventually, his eyes fixed on the floorboards unseeingly. "I couldn't have done what I did, if it hadn't been for Kreacher."

"When did you find out about Voldemort's Horcruxes?" Hermione asked, feeling a pang of sympathy as Regulus gave a slight wince at the sound of the undesirable name. She knew it would be pushing him, to ask him to divulge his darker secrets, but it seemed a necessary measure to take when they were trying to throw off a similar curse. The last thing Hermione wanted to do to Regulus, was to make him relive the terror that must have haunted him in last days, but there was no one else who could help her to the extent that he could. Regulus had actually experienced and experimented with the creation of Horcruxes, and even Lucius, his superior in age and knowledge, could not rival that precious understanding.

"I heard of it first from Bella," Regulus said with a half-sigh as his lean shoulders slumped. "We were quite close, back then."

Hermione was dumbfounded for a moment, unable to imagine how any sane person could have kept company with the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange. Lucius had said that she had been recognisably rational once, but Hermione simply could not picture a Bellatrix who was kind, considerate or affectionate in the ways a normal person was. She had a vague idea of the fanatic devotion the oldest Black sister had had for Voldemort and the pure-blood cause, but that was entirely different from the gentler and all-encompassing effects of actual love.

Hermione must have been grimacing as she thought, for Regulus glanced at her before cracking a wry smile, seeming to understand the limbo her mind was in over the thoughts of a pleasant Bellatrix.

"I suppose you're thinking of my cousin as being terminally insane?" he said dryly, causing Hermione to be somewhat embarrassed of her deep dislike of Bellatrix, as it occurred to her that the Black cousins might have had a friendly relationship.

"Sorry," she apologised ruefully before an involuntary shudder overtook her in an unexpected descent of chill. "It's just... Well, I never knew her in the same capacity as you might've done."

Regulus gave a slight shrug. "I don't blame you for hating her. She certainly wasn't nice to everyone."

"No, she wasn't," Hermione agreed with him thoughtfully, giving a solemn nod to add to her sense of conviction.

"But she could be generous when she wanted to be," Regulus continued, sounding faintly nostalgic.

"I'll just have to take your word for it," Hermione remarked neutrally, not wanting to offend her nocturnal guest, but not wanting to make herself believe either that there had been some kind of good in Bellatrix. It was too much for her to try and understand. Regulus seemed to accept her opinion of his cousin, for he simply looked at her with neither like nor dislike, but had a pensive expression creasing the fine lines around his sad eyes.

"She was the one who worked to have the Dark Lord accept me into his Inner Circle."

"You were in the Inner Circle?" Hermione asked in astonishment, aware of the fact that even in her little knowledge of Death Eaters' ranks, the Inner Circle was meant to consist of only the best and most trustworthy according to Voldemort. To think that Regulus, barely a man, had been let into the very core of the Cause was both shocking and somehow impressive.

"A cousin's recommendation can be a powerful reason," Regulus admitted with a dry smile. "Especially if that cousin is the favourite and best of the Dark Lord's followers."

"What about Lucius?" Hermione couldn't help asking, wondering what kind of status and black honour the elder Malfoy had held back then. A look of severe distaste passed over Regulus' pale features, making it quite clear what he thought of the other man. Hermione, despite continuing to be bemused by the curious animosity between the two wizards, was not thrown off by Regulus' reluctance to even mention Lucius.

"I thought he was supposed to have been Voldemort's right hand man?" she prompted Regulus, feeling an unexplainable determination to know more about her original protector, seeing as he never spoke about his own history.

"He was, sort of," Regulus acknowledged with a grimace. "Malfoy got lucky one day and had the insolence to toy with the Dark Lord's sense of trust."

"What do you mean?"

"He was a two-faced, lying, sly dog who tricked us all."

"Tricked you about what?" Hermione prompted, baffled by Regulus' indignation at something that must have been an internal conflict in the Death Eater movement.

"Everything."

"I'm guessing there's more to it than just that?"

Regulus blew out a breath through his nose. "He had the nerve to pretend to the Dark Lord that he was his most faithful servant, when everyone knew Bella was a thousand times better," he explained in a mutter, a clouded expression coming over his face.

Hermione said nothing. She was feeling perplexed by the idea of anyone wanting to like and be loyal to someone like Bellatrix. It confused her to see Regulus, who had realised the wrongness of Voldemort and his mission, pay homage to a woman who, it was not too far-fetched to say, had been nearly as mad as the Dark wizard himself. True, Bellatrix had been Regulus' cousin and possibly had been good to him, but it was still an alien notion for Hermione, and she struggled to grasp the concept of a kind, generous Lestrange.

"Malfoy cost Bella her position and her master's trust," Regulus continued in his quiet, terse voice. "He poisoned the Dark Lord against her because he was jealous of her closeness with the master. The rat wanted all the power for himself."

Again, Hermione was silent, unable to think of anything to say that would form an appropriate answer. She didn't want to oppose Regulus by siding with Lucius, whom she judged to be far saner and practically likable compared to Bellatrix, as she knew it would only aggravate the young man further and because he seemed to face enough opposition with the rest of the world on the subject of his cousin.

"Of course, Bella became far more unpredictable in her rages, thanks to Malfoy's constant hammering at her status, and it became harder to relate to her after that," Regulus continued in his sullen mutter.

"Does that mean she was...normal before then?" Hermione asked with some surprise, thinking it to be an impossible feat.

Regulus gave a rueful smile. "As normal as Bella was ever going to get."

"And how did she know about Horcruxes?"

"The Dark Lord confided in her, of course. He didn't tell her much, but she knew enough to understand the basic concepts of how to make one," Regulus replied with a slight shrug of his lean shoulders.

"And she was the only Death Eater to know?" Hermione asked carefully.

"The Dark Lord trusted nobody else," Regulus said with a hint of pride, his eyes holding a gleam in the low candlelight.

"But she obviously trusted you enough to tell you," Hermione pointed out, unintentionally digging for more information by handing out the flattery.

"Bella had faith in me. She thought I had potential. Not to mention that I supported her fully in her fight against Malfoy."

Hermione frowned a little as she thought. "So, you were her strongest ally."

"I was her friend."

There was a silence as neither of them spoke further for a few moments, Regulus letting the words sink into Hermione. Hermione herself thought it an unusual yet somehow understandable statement to make, given that he was Bellatrix's cousin, after all. She knew that blood ties tended to be almost unbreakable, though there were the exceptions such as Sirius, who had managed to cut off his family with apparently no remorse.

"What about her husband?" Hermione asked at length, her mind busy churning through all the material Regulus had set in her grasp.

Regulus gave a snort. "What about him?"

"Didn't Bellatrix...well, have some sort of relationship with him?" Hermione said with a note of astonishment in her voice, feeling surprised that there might not be such a great connection between the Lestrange spouses, despite their shared quality of fanatical devotion to Voldemort.

"Bella and Rodolphus were about as well-matched as any two crazed individuals could ever be, but their mutual love was for the Dark Lord and the Cause only. I doubt either cared for the other more than was asked of them in the context of being leading Death Eaters. I know Bella didn't," Regulus explained with another shrug.

"I suppose that's mildly understandable..." Hermione mused pensively as she thought over the oddly well-suited couple, trying to imagine what it might have been like in their household. Not too fun, she thought.

Regulus was smirking slightly. "You look shocked."

"Well, I am..."

"Does it frighten you?"

"Does what frighten me?" Hermione demanded a little sharply, turning her full attention to Regulus.

"All this talk about Death Eaters," he replied with a vague wave of his pale hand.

"No, no. I've been trying to get this kind of information out of Lucius, but he's a closed book on the subject."

Regulus made a quiet noise of disparagement. "As if Malfoy would want to tell you anything. He's far too self-centred to take the time to actually talk to another human being."

"I'm not so sure that's true..." Hermione tried to edge in her objection, feeling as though she was talking to another version of Ron, who would probably have reacted in a similar fashion to the elder Malfoy. It was a childish, petty part of him that Hermione had never liked, but she had been able to overlook it much of the time, seeing as she loved the rest of him wholeheartedly. Now, she still loved him, but being so far removed from the rest of her friends and the world in general, Hermione was beginning to forget all about them...

"And he's obviously tricked you as well, if you're thinking any different of him. He's of the conniving sort. It is best never to believe him," Regulus advised her coolly.

"Well..." Hermione said, hesitating to take his advice.

"Besides, he married Cissy," Regulus interjected her indecision with a meaningful look, as if his words held some kind of double entendre.

"Is that supposed to explain something?" Hermione asked outright, not hiding her confusion.

Regulus shot her an impatient look. "Narcissa is about as sly and distrusting as him. He clearly married her to aggravate Bella and turn her against her own sister."

Hermione frowned again as she thought back to Lucius' own words. "But he said it was a marriage of convenience."

Regulus shrugged. "That doesn't mean you have no say in who you marry."

"But I don't understand," Hermione murmured thoughtfully. "Has there always been some kind of conflict between your two families?"

"The Malfoys have always tried to usurp us from our place as the most powerful pure-blood family in Britain," Regulus explained, clearly proud of his heritage. "Of course, they never succeeded in their aspirations, but..."

"But what about the Exchange of Secrets? Didn't that make your two families allies?"

"A diplomatic measure to try and curb the conflict between us. I doubt either the Blacks or the Malfoys actually attempted to use the agreement," Regulus said with mild scorn, clearly unimpressed by the talk of Malfoys.

"But you can still use it, can't you?"

"It would seem so," Regulus admitted with nonchalance. "I don't recall being told about any withdrawal of the contract."

"Then will you tell Lucius what you know about the Horcruxes?" Hermione asked him in a suggestive, slightly commanding tone.

"Why would I want to do that?" Regulus challenged her, meeting her eyes with a spark of insolence that she recognised as having been in Sirius as well.

"Because he's in this as well," Hermione told him firmly.

"This?" Regulus repeated with one dark brow arching. Hermione sighed in both defeat and exasperation.

"He's here to help me. You're here to help me. We need to do this all together."

"As I said, I do not trust him, and neither should you, if you know what's good for you," Regulus warned her, though in a seemingly careless manner as he glanced down at his hands that lay idly in his lap.

"I trust Lucius," Hermione intoned resolutely, wanting her companion to believe it also. "He has done so much to prove that he's changed. Even having him here proves that."

"As you say," Regulus drawled in an infuriatingly casual tone.

"I mean, maybe he was – was like you think him to be, when he was working for Voldemort, but that's all over now," Hermione continued, doing her best to try and win Regulus over on the matter. "Lucius knows better than to keep supporting something that's so clearly wrong and – and evil!"

Regulus gave a noncommittal nod. Hermione stared hard at him for a moment, assessing his strengths and weaknesses, and how to attack with a converting line that would get through his defences and convince him of Lucius' transformation into a better man. She gave it up as a bad job when she realised that Regulus wouldn't be ready to make such great changes to his state of mind – she knew it was going to be far from easy to change the views that he had both lived and died with. Perhaps she would try another day.

"If you really don't want to talk with him, then I suppose I'll just have to be the one to relay everything we know to him," Hermione conceded with a small sigh.

"Everything I know," Regulus corrected with a flair of arrogance that Hermione did not find overly pleasing. To retaliate, she drew him up short on his point of pride and gave him a mildly accusing look as she spoke.

"You're the one who hasn't told me anything yet."

Regulus paused and gave a yielding nod. "True."

"Will you tell me what you know about Horcruxes?"

A slight sigh escaped the ghostly lips. "I have little else to do in this world."

"I'm sorry..." Hermione murmured, unable to stop the flow of pity that washed away all her dislikes about Regulus' many faults. He really had many flaws, but she found she could explain most of them away, given his circumstances.

She was stopped in her tracks when Regulus gave her an irritated look. "Spare me your pity," he said with some disdain, sounding surprisingly like Lucius. "I didn't come back for that."

"I know, I know – I'm sorry – it's just..." Hermione struggled to think of a good way to phrase her thoughts. "Well, I'm not used to talking to people who are..."

"A memory?" Regulus suggested coolly.

"Yes," Hermione admitted in a quiet voice. She was somewhat taken aback when he gave a mirthless chuckle, his dark eyes glancing at her, alluringly closed off from her.

"I forget that I'm not alive. It is rather strange," he confessed with a slight smile curling on his thin lips.

"Do you regret it?" Hermione asked him, unable to quash the curiosity that overwhelmed her. She had been waiting and wishing for years to be able to talk to the unsung hero that had started the unravelling of Voldemort's morbid mysteries.

"Regret what?" Regulus repeated with a blank look.

"Coming back."

There was a short moment of stillness as he thought it over, but he eventually shook his head in denial. "Not particularly. I'm glad that my work was successful. I always was rather good with difficult enchantments."

"I guess it runs in the family," Hermione remarked ruefully.

"What makes you say that?" Regulus' brow was arching again, in an unintentional mimic of Lucius' trademark expression.

"Sirius – he learned how to turn into an Animagus, along with his friends, including Harry's dad," Hermione explained.

"Harry Potter?"

"Yes. Him." Hermione gave a slight smile, a small glow of warmth filling her at the thought of one of her best friends.

"And Sirius was an Animagus?" Regulus asked, distracting her from her wandering thoughts.

"He was a great, big, black dog," Hermione clarified with a nod.

"The Grim..." Regulus murmured to himself, but Hermione heard all the same and finished his sentence.

"–Was the one you saw." She smiled, a little broader this time, as she saw Regulus' look of incredulousness.

"I never knew... I – I might have killed him and not known it."

"I'm afraid Bellatrix did that for you," Hermione said sadly, especially putting on a lowered demeanour for Regulus' sake.

"She never did like him," Regulus remarked thoughtfully and without any sign of devastated emotion, much to Hermione's surprise.

"Aren't you upset?"

Regulus looked at her curiously. "Why should I be?"

"He was your brother!" Hermione said with a slight, incredulous laugh. "Why else?"

Regulus inhaled deeply. "These things pass. Time passes. None of it is relevant to me anymore."

"But you still admire Bellatrix?" Hermione pressed on, feeling more and more confused by the youth sitting before her.

"I remember her for being good to me when no one else was. It would be ungrateful of me to think otherwise."

"I still can't understand – can't imagine how she could be good like that!" Hermione admitted, clearly stumped in regards to Bellatrix.

"It was only to the privileged few," Regulus reminded her in an indifferent manner.

"Did she tell you much about Horcruxes?"

"At first, she only hinted of the Dark Lord having created powers that would keep him in eternal greatness," Regulus said, frowning a little in thought. "I later on found out that these tools were Horcruxes, though the Dark Lord had already made his many years before he told cousin Bella."

"How did you find out about the rest of it?" Hermione asked, unable to think where he might have got more detailed knowledge on the ghastly subject, as the Ministry had taken steps long ago to try and keep witches and wizards from being exposed to such evil. It both irked her and impressed her to know that he had succeeded in accessing information that she had never been able to find in all her time researching Horcruxes.

Regulus didn't seem to notice her silent aggravation, and gave a casual shrug. "There are books of an unpleasant nature to be found in certain establishments."

"Would that have been in Knockturn Alley?" Hermione said while raising an eyebrow, Lucius' habits having started to rub off on her.

Regulus conceded with a nod. "I don't know if the shop is still there, but I found a particularly rare book there detailing how to create a Horcrux, and brought it back so I could study it."

"The shop won't be there anymore; the new Minister's purged the place of everything related to the Dark Arts. It's now something of an extension of Diagon Alley," Hermione explained sombrely, feeling somewhat irritated at the irony of it. The one time they needed the sordid backwaters of Knockturn Alley, it was no longer there. How typical.

"Ah," Regulus exclaimed quietly, his expression giving nothing away.

"Have you still got the book?" Hermione asked somewhat anxiously, her nerves beginning to tighten as she realised what could be at stake. If there was no book, she would have only Regulus to rely on for an escape out of her cursed state of being, and though she didn't believe he would mislead her, she was not certain she trusted him wholly either. She felt her hopes sinking further when he gave her a bland look.

"No, I had to get rid of it after it began affecting the magical lay of the house."

"It actually affected your house?" she said in astonishment, her mind whirring with wonderment on how powerful the book might be. If it was strong enough to affect a house, then she wasn't so sure it was an entirely bad thing not to be in possession of it...

"Like I said, it wasn't an agreeable book," Regulus continued in his dry tone. "My father was beginning to grow ill – I am almost certain it was from the harmful energy radiating from the book – and my mother felt a weakening in her own magic."

"It sounds terrible," Hermione remarked solemnly.

"It was." Regulus glanced at her offhandedly.

"Then how did you manage to read through it?" asked Hermione, surprised to hear that someone so young had managed to handle a magical object that was clearly powerful and potentially very dangerous.

"It took time," Regulus answered in his nonchalant, haughty way, taking time to look at her with a noticeable trace of polished arrogance before adding, "and practice."

Hermione huffed slightly. "I suppose that means you don't want to tell me?"

"It is not necessary to hear in this moment," Regulus conceded evasively.

"Then what is?" Hermione demanded to know in exasperation, feeling flummoxed by his continuous desire to throw her off the track with his vague allusions and unwillingness to explain some of the greater curiosities about either himself or something only he knew. Regulus seemed to notice her frustration, for he looked over at her with one corner of his mouth turning upwards slightly in a ghost of a smirk that made him look strangely familiar.

"We need to find a way to undo the Halfcrux curse that has been cast on you."

Hermione sighed. "And do you know anything about that?"

"Only that complete obliteration would result in purging the unwelcome shard of another's soul that is lingering in your own form," Regulus replied with an air of cool blasé that only he seemed to be able to carry off so well without Hermione wanting to constantly hex him. Somehow, the arrogance suited him, and though she did find him to be irritating at times, there was also a part of her that admired him in some unexplainable way. She wasn't sure if it was because he was someone she had been so curious about, or if it was merely the fact that she was finding company with someone near her own age, but Hermione enjoyed Regulus' company, despite his many shortcomings. It was easier to relax when she was with him, what with being closer in both age and thinking.

She tried a wry smile as a thought came over her. "I was rather hoping to be cured and stay alive."

It was strangely warming to see Regulus answer her with a small smile of his own. "That is why we need to find some sources of information."

"Do you know of any books that might have answers?" Hermione asked, seriousness slipping back over her and leading her thoughts to the ever-faithful resource of the written word.

"The book I once had would have had the right information," Regulus mused pensively as he gazed at the dark curtains above them that were draping the canopy of the bed.

"But it's rare?" Hermione said with a pointed look, already knowing the answer by instinct.

"Very."

"How rare?" she asked with eyes narrowing in calculation.

Regulus gave a heavy exhale as he turned his pale face to look at her with his thin lips quirked in a grimace. "There are only nine copies said to be surviving. Ten, if you count the one that is reputed to be kept frozen in an underwater cave by its keepers at Durmstrang."

"That's probably an impossible one to get hold of, then," Hermione remarked with a shake of her head, mentally crossing it off from the ten she had listed in her mind.

"Most certainly," Regulus agreed matter-of-factly before he gave a mirthless smirk. "Unless your Malfoy has some precious details he can blackmail the Keepers with."

Hermione sighed as she thought it over. "I can ask him, but I doubt he'd have anything with so much bargaining power. Oh, and he's not my Malfoy."

Regulus gave yet another one of his noncommittal shrugs. "If you say so."

"I do," Hermione told him with a sharp look, momentarily tempted to straighten a few things out between them about the relationships of the current residents of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. She decided against it however, not wanting to distract them further from what was most important at that moment. "Now, we need to find out where we can get a hold of one of these books. Are you sure there aren't any others we might find the answer from?"

"None that I know of," Regulus answered somewhat bleakly, making it difficult for Hermione to maintain a clear sense of determination to find a cure when it sounded so unattainable. For a moment, she was swayed by the apparent hopelessness of the situation into contemplating admitting defeat, but the old Gryffindor in her revived some of its roar and made her sit up straight again and swallow back her gloom to try and think sensibly.

"What's the name of the book?"

Regulus' face seemed to grow stony just from speaking the name. "The Art of Divortium."

"And the shop where you bought it from?" Hermione asked in a resolute manner, striving to attain her old level of strong willpower.

Regulus frowned in thought before the dark expression eventually cleared and he steadily said, "Calculo's Atrox Libelli."

Hermione repeated the strange name slowly to get it embedded in her mind, and then turned her eyes to her ghostly visitor. "Is Calculo the owner's name?"

"Arcanus Calculo," Regulus replied, inclining his head a little to one side.

"Did you know him?" Hermione interrogated him, finally feeling herself to be getting back into the swing of things. It felt like it had been an incredibly long time since she had last embarked on any sort of adventure. The excitement and exhilaration of having a new challenge that she had always loved was beginning to return to her, and it awakened her to the fact that she had missed so much in the last few months of Bellatrix's curse manifesting itself in her. She almost felt like the old Hermione again.

"My father did," Regulus replied in conjunction to her query, looking thoughtful as he did so. Hermione joined him in being pensive, her mind automatically creating various theories and methods regarding the mystery of Arcanus Calculo.

"Do you think he's still alive?" she mused aloud, not altogether surprised to see an expression of nonchalance flit across Regulus' face.

"I cannot say. He was an old man in my time."

"Do you know if he has any descendants?"

Regulus paused to narrow his eyes in thought as he tried to remember. "Two sons that I don't know the names of, though one of them was killed while at Durmstrang," he eventually said slowly, giving Hermione reason to grimace at hearing of the death. It only amplified her opinion on Durmstrang; ever since Viktor Krum had hinted to the uneasy living in the vaulted halls of the school, she had developed a rather dark and terrible image of what it was like there. This latest addition to its shady history did little to appease her on the subject.

"I suppose he's the only lead we've got, then," she said with a sigh. "Unless you know where the other copies of the book might be."

"I only heard that there were nine others from Calculo. He never specified where they could be found. Undoubtedly, they must have been well kept by their owners, if rumours were the only things that could hint to their existence."

Hermione nodded slowly as the newfound information settled into her mind. "I'll need to think about this and do some research."

"With only one lead?" Regulus asked in mild surprise, one dark brow flickering up against his pale forehead as he looked at her with what seemed to be a mixture of doubt and cautious approbation.

"I have contacts in the Ministry," Hermione answered in a mild retort, feeling somewhat prickled at his lack of faith in her. She hadn't been called a Know-It-All for nothing, after all.

"Ah. Of course. You have Harry Potter," Regulus acknowledged with a tip of his head.

"Not only him," Hermione automatically replied before hurriedly closing her mouth, not daring to contemplate the one third who completed their trio. The thought of the tall, funny, likable figure of Ron had slipped into the forefront of her mind without warning, and the suddenness of it all had caught her unaware. She had pledged to herself that she would avoid the topic of Ron at all costs, having realised that it only tended to make her even more emotional and depressed than usual. Hermione waited in dread for the trembling wave of anguish and desperation that she fully expected was about to wash over her, but she was shocked to feel only a dulled, muted impression of her former pain. Her confusion at the unexpected feeling of emptiness left her both puzzled and worried, but at the same time, she was swamped with an overwhelming sense of relief.

Perhaps she was getting better without the direct help of a cure. Perhaps she had simply been away from people for too long to feel anything. Perhaps she was losing the ability to live and love like she had once done. It seemed wrong and terrible of her to be feeling so lacklustre about someone whom she had loved and cherished both as a friend and something more, but Hermione could feel nothing else. Deep inside, she was relieved to not have to fight against the onslaught of the wild emotions that were not hers at the presenting of a powerful memory, but she was scared to acknowledge her relief.

It felt like she was betraying Ron; to be so unfeeling about it all. It had to be wrong... Hermione felt painfully guilty about it, yet there was nothing she could do. It would be false of her to force out some kind of feeling that apparently wasn't there, but then again, she feared that she was losing her connection with a truly dear friend. What had happened between her and Ron had driven them apart, but she had never imagined they would be falling away so far...

"Who else is there?"

Regulus' quiet, subdued voice sounded like a clash of cymbals in Hermione's ears as her mind struggled to clamber out of the voracious river of thought flooding through her. She looked up at him, startled, her cheeks growing flushed in embarrassment as she realised how odd she must look, going out of focus so intently.

"What did you say?" she asked in a quiet, slightly hoarse voice as she searched his face for any signs of what he thought about her.

Regulus was looking indifferent again. "It doesn't matter. It was nothing important."

Hermione let it go this time, not wanting to chase the curiosity of the dropped subject, fearing that it would lead her to the vicious circle of confusion that was whirling around the thought of Ron. She deemed it would be best to leave that aside for another time, when she would be in the tight privacy of her own company. Regulus probably thought her a fool anyways. She hardly wanted him to think less of her than he already did.

Not wanting to show any more weakness before someone whom she was quite keen to impress, Hermione swiftly shoved aside all the Ron-related thoughts in her mind and picked up a brisk pace of logic as she took to the line of ideas they had been discussing previous to her relapse. "One lead doesn't seem a lot, but I'll also talk to Lucius and see what he knows. He must know something about this Calculo. He's been to Knockturn Alley enough for one lifetime, I'd say."

"I don't doubt it," Regulus agreed with her in his detached manner. Hermione suppressed a sudden yawn as sleepiness settled back over her, the night still aplenty and the day far from the horizon. She let herself sink back into her pillows as she looked up at her vaporous companion with eyes that were beginning to ache from weariness.

"Will you only come at night?" Hermione asked him, unable to completely keep back a second yawn.

"For now," Regulus said with a slight nod. "I am not strong enough to face the light of day."

"When will you be?"

He gave a mysterious smile. "When it is time."

"Time?" Hermione repeated blankly, feeling the haze of tiredness beginning to envelope her mind. Whether it was due to the veil of fatigue falling around her in folds, or the fact that Regulus was an apparition of sorts, the reason for the seemingly fading atmosphere around her was unclear, but Hermione supposed it might be a mixture of both. She blinked rapidly several times to see if her eyes were deceiving her, but she was glad when it became unavoidably clear that Regulus was indeed beginning to fade into the darkness.

His dark eyes gleamed at her like black marbles. "Until nightfall," he told her in a voice that was fading to a whisper even as he spoke. Hermione was somewhat startled by his mysteriously elusive farewell, and it woke her up for a moment.

"Wait! Regulus!"

It was too late. Hermione stared hard at the far wall of her bedroom, which was empty, except for herself. Regulus had come and gone like a dream, utterly untraceable and totally unforgettable. Once again, sleep was starting to corrode her, but even as she felt her eyelids drooping, Hermione found herself making resolves. She recalled Regulus' peculiar loathing of Lucius, which she found to be rather petty and childish, but she could understand his narrowed opinion. After all, he had barely been out of childhood before he had died. It seemed vital to her to have both Regulus and Lucius aiding her with the qualities that she did not have, but she was determined to make the two wizards forget the hatred that bound them.

There was no room for that where they all needed to go.

 

The house felt empty. The silence that held it spellbound was stifling, exuding a sense of gloom and desolation that might have belonged to a ghostly, abandoned establishment. Sitting in an armchair by the fire in the drawing room, Hermione shivered despite herself, disliking the feeling of destitute melancholy that seemed to haunt every inch of the place. She had been sitting in her seat for a good hour in the hopes of catching Lucius, but he hadn't made an appearance. There wasn't even any sign or noise to show that he actually lived there, and Hermione was growing worried that something might have happened to him.

The morning was slipping away over the distant horizon and a dark, damp fog had settled over that part of London, obscuring the rarely-glimpsed sun and blue sky from view. Hermione had the strangest feeling that it was her life that was fading away outside, disappearing behind the smoggy blanket of an evasive mist. Turning her head slightly to glance up at the window, she was greeted with a bleak sight that only dimmed her spirits more.

She turned back to the fire before her feet with a sigh; there was so much for her to think about, but she couldn't concentrate on her thoughts properly when she was feeling so restless. It felt strange not to have Lucius nearby, even if it would be him simply ignoring her and immersing himself in some book or other. Hermione had grown so accustomed to his presence, it no longer felt right to be in the same house as him and not have him with her. She had so much to tell him as well, and it was arousing her excitable nerves to think that they finally had some kind of lead to pursue in order to bring them closer to finding a cure for her curse.

Ten more long minutes of waiting, and Hermione ejected herself from her seat with determination, her legs taking her up to the second floor of the house in a brisk march. She ignored the slight shivers that were overwhelming her as she passed through the shadowed corridors and up the stairs, concentrating only on the door next to that of her own room. Upon reaching the landing where both her and Lucius' rooms opened onto, Hermione paused, hesitating a little before creeping forwards to press an ear against the closed door of Lucius' room.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting to hear, but she still felt somewhat disappointed when she heard nothing behind the cold, hard wood. All that sounded in her ears was her own breathing and the steady thrumming of her blood as it pulsed around her arteries. She was just about to give it up as a bad job and knock, when she heard a muffled sound of a voice in some form of distress.

There was a stifled deep-throated wheeze and a muttered oath as some piece of furniture fell with a dull crash onto the floor. Hermione held her breath and listened closer, trying to identify the sounds exactly. She strained her ears in the process, but was greatly disgruntled to be met with only silence, as though Lucius wasn't even in the room. With her curiosity and concern burning too strong for her to remain motionless outside, she swallowed back the small murmur of objection inside her and gave the door a few firm knocks.

There was silence.

Hermione knocked again, calling softly through the door, "Lucius?"

She barely waited a few seconds before she slowly turned the handle of the door and opened it with the slightest creak of hinges.

"Lucius?" she tried again, her eyes struggling to see as she peered into the dark, unlit room. The dim light slipping in from the landing behind her thinly illuminated the rough shapes of the bed, wardrobe and a small table pushed up against the wall where Hermione knew the window to be, but she couldn't actually see or hear the living man who presumably was still there.

Stumped by the apparent desertion of the chamber, theories of quick disappearances were beginning to filter into Hermione's mind when the weak light sliding in from the corridor behind her illuminated the slight movement of someone on the shadowed bed.

"Lucius? Is that – is that you?" Hermione asked tentatively as she left the door half-open and took a few cautious steps towards the bed, straining her eyes to see better. A slight groan sounded from the bed before it was cut off by a sharp inhale, causing Hermione to step over to the bed quicker.

She shivered as a stray gust of cold wind caught her sharply and raised goosebumps on her skin. Her feet led her to the bedside when she could now see the dark form of Lucius stretched out in uneasy slumber, the heavy drapes hanging from the four posts of the large bed obscuring him from the dim light crawling in from the doorway.

"Lucius?" she said quietly as she slowly lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, leaning a little closer to peer at him as he lay above the covers, fully dressed. Another quiet, strangled moan escaped the unconscious wizard's lips as he tensed and jerked his limbs a little. Hermione grew greatly worried as she saw the broken remains of a wizard who had once been so proud, and witnessed how weak and fragile he was looking, his pale skin glowing in a wan complexion whenever the light caught him.

The peculiar state of darkness in the room frightened Hermione somewhat, but she forced herself to stay calm and collected as she drew her attention firmly back to Lucius, whose breathing seemed to be becoming harsher and more erratic.

"Please wake up," Hermione muttered as she reached out with a hand to take hold of the shoulder nearest to her and give it a slight shake. "Lucius!"

"Don't do it," Lucius suddenly groaned, his fingers clutching the dark sheets beneath him with what looked to be a painful grip. "Don't let him do it... Merlin, don't let him do it..."

Hermione frowned as she let go of his shoulder and stared hard at him, wondering what he was dreaming about. On second thoughts, however, she realised she knew exactly what was passing through his mind when he was in slumber. There could only be one thing that could stir such an unfeeling, indifferent man into muttering anxieties in his sleep; it had to be Draco.

"He's only young. Don't let him do it, for the love of life! He has done nothing wrong, my lord. Please, I beg you to spare him... No..."

Hermione instinctively grimaced on Lucius' behalf as she imagined whatever horror he was seeing. It agonised her to see him so troubled, and though she knew he would hate to be discovered in such a weakened position, she doubled her efforts to wake the wizard from the terrible clutches of his nightmare.

"Lucius!"

His eyes snapped open as his body froze, the pale grey irises glinting in the low light coming in from the corridor outside. Hermione held her breath as she watched him gather his senses, feeling hesitant to alert him to her presence and preferring simply to wait until he noticed her by himself. The face that had been previously contorted with the lingering pain of the past was now blank, impassive, and unreadable as Lucius steadied himself.

He turned his head to the right and saw her, his eyes burning holes into her own as Hermione gazed back.

"You were having a nightmare," Hermione eventually said faintly in a half-hearted attempt to explain, feeling nervous at his unresponsiveness. Lucius merely stared at her a moment longer before he drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes again with a sigh.

"I was," Lucius admitted in an unusually weak voice before slowly opening his eyes and gazing up at Hermione wearily. She didn't like the way he was, feeling horrified at how feeble he seemed and greatly worried that he was taking no trouble to hide it from her.

"Are you feeling alright?" she asked in a lowered tone as she peered at him in concern, alarmed to see him so altered from the strong, sturdy man he had been only a day before.

Lucius let out a low breath and closed his eyes once more. His hands were still clutching the sheets beneath him and shadows dappled the valleys between the ridges of his tendons as his grip remained tight. Hermione silently conjured up a cool, damp cloth with her wand and tentatively lowered herself onto the edge of the bed to lean over him slightly and gently press the cloth to his forehead. She instinctively tensed when Lucius gave out a slight hiss, but she calmed herself as she realised it was out of relief, not pain.

With her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, Hermione could see how pallid Lucius looked and how his skin gleamed a little with a thin sheen of sweat. His lips were colourless as he parted them a little to draw in breaths and his brow was crumpled in a slightly pained expression. Hermione could feel his skin burning with fever beneath the cloth that was become warm under her hand, and she cast a Cooling charm over it to refresh Lucius. He gave a soft groan as she wiped a cooling trail across his cheeks and muttered something inaudible. Hermione frowned as she tried to discern whether he had truly woken up or not, but was distracted when one of his hands suddenly let go of the bed sheets to grasp the wrist of her hand as she was bringing the cloth back to his forehead.

She gave a sharp gasp of pain as he held her in an iron hold, her wrist looking fragile and easily breakable as his long fingers circled it entirely. Hermione held her breath as she waited in dread for him to crush her bones as it seemed so likely he would, but the air whistled out of her when she felt his hand slowly relax and he loosened his grip on her.

Pale lashes fluttered as Lucius blinked several times and opened his eyes with some effort, his lips moving soundlessly for a moment before the frown on his face lifted and he focused on Hermione as she remained sitting at his side.

"How long have I been sleeping?" he asked her, sounding hoarser than usual.

"I – I don't know," Hermione replied a little nervously, worried by his confused senses. "You were awake a moment ago and then..." She lifted her wrist a little, looking pointedly at the large hand that still encircled it. Lucius grimaced slightly as he noticed what her eyes were gesturing to and released her to let his hand drop down beside him on the bed, his face turning away from her. Hermione felt a sharp pang of hurt, but said nothing, biting back her wounded feelings to concentrate on the problem at hand. She knew from Regulus' increased state of corporeality that he had used more of Lucius' energy, sending the living wizard into decreased health.

"I'll go get you some potion," she murmured, barely sparing her patient a glance as she rose onto her feet and made to leave the room.

"Wait."

Hermione froze where she was, a few steps from the bed. Even with his haggard voice, Lucius could wield an authoritative power that had her halting immediately. She turned around slowly to watch him laboriously raise himself onto his elbows, his pale face appearing to be somewhat luminous in the darkness.

"Forgive me, Miss Granger," he said before he was suddenly arrested by a brief coughing fit, leaving Hermione to stare at him in shock and bewilderment.

"For what?" she asked blankly, blinking several times as she continued to look at him in incredulity.

Lucius cleared his throat, his voice coming out almost as smooth as it was normally. "My manners... Do not think I am not grateful for...what you are doing for me." His light eyes fixed on Hermione's intently. "I...I truly appreciate it."

Words had temporality deserted Hermione, and she found herself giving a nod of slightly dazed acceptance before she left the room, her legs and feet moving of their own volition. She passed down the two flights of stairs and into the kitchen with barely a thought of where she was going, the light from her raised wandtip illuminating the lowly-lit hallways. The only thing her eyes kept seeing was the pure, sincere expression on Lucius' face as he had impressed his feeling of thanks upon her. Hermione thought she had never seen a more earnest thanks in her entire life. It was a shock, especially coming from someone like Lucius Malfoy, who never said thanks for anything to anyone, let alone lowly little Muggle-borns like Hermione.

True, he said he had overcome his prejudices against those of lesser blood purity, but he had also told Hermione that those beliefs would stay with him forever, even though he no longer believed in them. It was therefore groundbreaking in Hermione's eyes to have him treat her with a sincerity that she suspected he did not often bestow on fellow human beings. The slight he had done her minutes ago suddenly seemed trivial and was utterly eclipsed by this new revelation, and Hermione had trouble not being overwhelmed by the sheer marvel of it all.

Her hands opened and closed cupboard doors without thought and she didn't even notice as she took hold of the right phial of potion out of the cupboard containing medical supplies and made her way back upstairs, the shadows not bothering her for once as she remained completely distracted by thoughts of the wizard upstairs. Her cursed state did render her far more emotional than it was in her nature, but Hermione thought that the way she was reacting to Lucius' wholly unexpected behaviour was mostly all from her real self. Her heart was pounding in a wild turmoil of feelings as she climbed the last few steps of the final stairway and quietly walked back into Lucius' room.

He was lying down again, though he opened his eyes to watch her as she came to perch on the edge of the bed again. Hermione swallowed nervously and avoided his gaze, feeling strangely acutely aware of everything in the few feet between and around them. The silence seemed loud in her ears as she carefully went about uncorking the phial, the atmosphere wrought with a tension that was both airy and heavy to Hermione. Butterflies beat in her stomach and her nerves thrummed with fire as she held out the potion to Lucius, her eyes finally daring to look at him.

Everything seemed suddenly changed. Being treated as a true equal and not merely in name had turned the relationship between them upside-down, in Hermione's opinion. She felt as though, by doing away with the subtle yet ubiquitous barrier formed from lingering prejudices and judgements, both she and Lucius had been freed from the weights that had previously held them back. She felt like she had been broken out of something – some kind of invisible cast – that had bound her to the facade of 'Hermione Granger', friend of the Boy Who Lived and the Muggle-born who had bested Draco Malfoy at Hogwarts.

Now, she could simply be a woman and Lucius, a man. The simplicity of being just that was utterly liberating, but the freedom was coming at a price. It was dangerous to be seeing each other with new eyes – there were too many possibilities and not all of them were good. That, Hermione was all too aware of.

She tensed when Lucius' fingers touched hers as he received the glass phial, the small, insignificant action that they might have done a dozen times before without noticing suddenly seeming striking. Hermione kept her breathing even as she pretended nothing was out of place, but she failed to hide the slight hitch of breath as Lucius paused, the tips of his fingers still touching and resting over hers.

His eyes flickered up to hers in a questioning look, one eyebrow arching slightly. Hermione simply stared back, frozen like a deer in the headlights. She had no idea what was the right thing to do in that moment; it was completely bizarre and baffling to be in such a situation with someone like Lucius Malfoy. Any other man, and she would have either pretended nothing had happened or coughed politely and forgotten the matter, but she could not forget when those cool grey eyes were looking up at her with so much intent.

"Lucius..." she eventually said in a strained murmur as she flexed her fingers a little underneath his. Lucius seemed to notice only then just what he was doing, and he cleared his throat slightly as he moved his fingers away from hers and took hold of the phial completely. Hermione watched him nervously as he sat up to take the potion, her hands twisting together in her lap. She stilled completely when she saw that he had paused to regard her with unblinking eyes, phial untouched by his lips.

"You should take the potion," she said, her voice coming out with some difficulty as the unnameable emotions tightened up her throat. "It'll make you feel better."

Lucius let his gaze linger on her for a long second before conceding and tipping his head back to take a sip of the healing liquid. Hermione watched anxiously as he grimaced as the unsavoury taste hit him, the expression clearing into one of passive peace as he lay back again with eyes closed, his hand holding out the phial of potion to Hermione for her to take back. Hermione hesitated for a short moment, causing Lucius to open his eyes again and turn his attention to her.

"Well, Miss Granger? What are you afraid of?" he demanded of her in a tone that sounded almost like his reprimanding self, though his voice remained somewhat harsh from illness. Hermione immediately snapped to at his words, reaching forwards and receiving the phial without further faltering, moving in silent resolution as she set the potion down on the bedside table and turned back to Lucius.

He was watching her, his pale eyes narrowed slightly. Hermione dithered only for a moment before she picked up the cloth she had left beside his head and cast another Cooling charm over it. She ignored the thumping of her heart and the humming in her veins as she wordlessly went about pressing the cool cloth against Lucius' feverish skin, concentrating to avoid looking into his disconcertingly bright eyes.

Lucius' light lashes fluttered slightly as Hermione gently wiped his burning forehead and pressed the refreshing coolness against his cheeks.

"How can you bear to do this?" Lucius asked in a strained voice as he squeezed his eyes shut in relief.

Hermione paused for a moment before she resumed her task with a steady hand. "Do what?" she asked him in a lowered tone, her body held completely still and tranquil, though she was trembling within.

Lucius released a soft sigh before opening his eyes to look up at her face. "To care." Hermione finally dared to meet his fixed gaze. "It is hardly as though I did anything to deserve your care and time."

"You've done enough," Hermione reasoned quietly, her outward serenity slowly seeping inwards to calm the messy tumult of emotions inside. "Besides, even if I still hated you, I don't think I'd be able to watch you fade away like this."

A ghost of smile flitted across Lucius' white lips. "Always the philanthropist," he remarked with a hint of his old cynicism.

"It's better for you that I am," Hermione replied evenly as she dabbed her way down along his jaw.

"I know it," Lucius agreed with a deep exhale as he closed his eyes, the potion appearing to be effecting him. Hermione smiled slightly as she watched him gradually fall back into a sleep, this time, his breathing slow and steady as his slumber remained restful. She had plenty to think about, least of all the pending mission regarding the mysterious book Regulus had mentioned the night before, but that could wait. Right now, she needed to think over what had occurred between them and why she was reacting to her new lease of freedom with such mixed emotions.

Lucius was right. Why was she doing this all for him? Because I feel bad that he's having his energy stolen away from him, all for me. The answer came immediately, but Hermione didn't think it really covered everything. She could hear the small voices inside her that were clamouring in whispers as they all spoke of their own reasons, causing the confusion whirling around inside her.

It was true that she did it because it was necessary, as there would be little use in having a protector who was indisposed to his task, but it was also true that she was doing it for him. Hermione didn't want him to suffer as it always seemed to pain her whenever she saw him in distress. She had known for a while that she was concerned for him not only as a protector, but as a fellow human being. Now, however, with the breakdown of the remaining barriers between them, Hermione was beginning to think that her altruistic tendencies for Lucius were no longer impersonal. She was no longer doing it because he was a man in pain; she was doing it because he was Lucius.

With that very realisation, Hermione knew that dawn would bring a new era in the bond between them and the adventure that lay ahead of them.

 

Lucius inwardly sighed. His head ached and throbbed with the unpleasant pain of a migraine, but it seemed a little more bearable with the cooling cloth that was passing over his forehead and cheeks. He was feeling drowsy from the potion he had taken, but there was still a little room for a few spare thoughts as his mind began to drift.

Such a wonder...

In the darkness of his closed eyes, he hazily thought over the girl who he could almost feel to be sitting at his side.

How can she bear it?

Lucius had always known his pride to be an overbearing factor in his personality. To have that strong quality so boldly beaten and bruised with the ultimate humiliation of the final years of his service to the Dark Lord had inevitably rendered him a changed man. A man as proud as he could not undergo such suffering without being affected for life. Many things had changed for him in such a short time; the foundations of his entire life had been brutally ripped away from under his feet, and the mountain on which he had once lorded over as king had become a destitute hole, and he, just another dead leaf on the arm of a wilting tree.

So pure. So perfect. So forgiving.

Lucius could not understand how it was possible for anyone to forgive as easily as Granger could. She, who had more reason to loathe him than to like him. It amazed him and mystified him completely to know that she cared for him in one way or another; the very concept was alien to a man such as Lucius, who only cared for the limited few who happened to fill in positions that bore ties to his own life. Perhaps it was the old Dumbledorian beliefs of showing compassion and empathy that were coming through her as they did through any good student who had learnt to take their mentor's teachings to heart. But somehow, Lucius didn't think that was it in the entirety.

He didn't know enough of feelings to be able to name what it was exactly that was passing through the girl, but he knew enough to recognise it as something unique, rare and even precious. He knew that whatever was happening between them, it wasn't something he had ever experienced in his life or observed in those close to him. It both fascinated him and made him wary; no one cared for him and he cared for no one outside his family sphere. That was simply the way it was meant to be. Lucius had lived with that certainty ever since he could remember and it struck him as odd to think otherwise.

Except Granger seemed to think of it differently.

The way she had looked at him... The way she had blushed at his touch... Lucius felt himself frowning as he wondered what was happening to him. To be stirred by these little things when he had remained unmoved in the sight of torture and even death... This was the madness that was eating away at him as he stood helpless in its devouring path.

Even as sleep finally threw its blackening hood over him, Lucius thought he could see lights glimmering in the distance as a familiar figure in silhouette stood on the ghostly road rolling out before him. The person turned, her golden brown eyes shining from out of the gloom and her face illuminated by some mysterious source of light that he couldn't pinpoint. That plain, young face, shining with the strength of a pure character, seemed strangely beautiful for the briefest of moments.

Then, it all faded into the darkness, leaving him to fall, fall, fall...


End file.
